Diary of the Court Poet
by Fortune
Summary: Life and love before and after the Great Calamity, as told through the eyes of the court poet who later becomes Kass' mentor. The things it takes to change one's tune...
1. An Open Book

**June 5th**

Ah, the crisp canvas of fresh parchment...a thousand blades caressing the bounds of their metal spiral as they beckon my fingers to soak them with their blood. Perhaps it's just as well that _something_ wet these pages. I've wasted half a bottle of ink dipping my pen only to lean in and watch it dry as I wait in vain for inspiration to return.

Two months of this madness!

Carlaisle suggested I keep a journal for the express purpose of recording my "ordinary" thoughts and feelings, a fully separate receptacle into which I can channel whatever nonsense proceeds to drain out of the cesspool between these pointed ears as of late. He claims clearing out his mind in this manner makes room for the onset of creativity and that some of his finest compositions have come to him this way. If it's proven effective for him and his music, the same should ring true for me and my poetry, one would suppose.

I must remember to thank him for my burning, bloody fingers. Yes, this is just what my writing needed. It's coming along so much more _fluidly_ now.

Whatever the means, I must overcome this cursed block if I am to prepare anything remotely suitable for Her Royal Highness' 16th birthday celebration just a few months from now. It shall be a milestone occasion for which His Majesty will undoubtedly harbor high expectations. Knowing Carlaisle, he's in all probability bounding between two or three different concertos in order to simply decide on a preferred melody. I'm baffled as to whose notion it was that I am capable of producing something that can adequately complement his calibre of work.

If nothing else, I must admit that there is a fundamental relief in getting all this off my chest.

And I've come to a realization. As of right now I haven't a prayer of composing lyrics befitting the princess for this occasion because, quite frankly, I know close to nothing about her. Of a surety she is lovely, but I haven't an inkling of her hopes and dreams, her favored sights and sounds and concepts, or the sources of her inspiration.

My task, then, is clear. I must take the time to get to know Her Highness better before I can even begin to move forward with this project. It should be pleasant enough. I do believe I'm actually looking forward to it.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_ Thanks for checking out my little alternate-perspective take on the BotW backstory thus far! To keep with the diary-like feel, it will be posted by the poet's individual entries rather than in chapters, though the amount of detail and dialogue will increase over time with his level of emotional investment. Also, I'll be basing this story as best I can on canon details, so if you haven't played the game yet or are still in the middle of it, consider this your major spoiler warning.

Reviews welcome and highly encouraged! Thanks so much for your support, and hope you enjoy!


	2. Favorites

**June 10th**

Her Highness graciously joined me this afternoon to tea and what began as a simple interview of sorts but soon graduated to a surprisingly engaging discussion about the impacts of Eldin's volcanic activity on the country's ecosystem. Now that I think about it I'm not certain why I approached the princess with such mediocre expectations. She is clearly an extraordinary young woman whose brilliance is only matched by her beauty. Despite the fog currently plaguing my efforts I consider myself honored to have been presented with the opportunity to play an integral role in the upcoming celebration.

And now, without further ado:

Favorite color: sky blue

Favorite foods: hearty radish soup, salmon meunière, fruit cake

Favorite song: The Rains of Akkala

Favorite book: Forever Free by Noeff Tollosen

Favorite flower: Silent Princess

Dislikes: rainy days, yappy dogs, large hairy spiders, monotone speeches

I was surprised to learn that she has never tasted chocolate. The cocoa bean is very uncommon in this region, but that should by no means be a reason someone of royalty has not been introduced to such a delectable treat.


	3. Haiku

**June 11th**

Watching rain pour down  
Lyric sheet remains bone dry  
This is so hopeless

Well, it would seem that this journal is really beginning to pay off. I've managed a haiku.

Now excuse me while I remove one of these pages and go slit my wrists.


	4. Renewed Hope

**June 15th**

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, I can say without reservations that today has genuinely been a good day.

I woke with premium poesy already trickling into my conscious thoughts, apparently from a dissipated dream. Fragments, but workable material nonetheless. Additional tidbits have been sprouting up now and again throughout the day. I've taken to carrying my other journal around to ensure I'm able to jot them down before they fade away.

In an even more pleasing turn of events, I encountered Her Royal Highness in the library shortly following lunch. There had been some points weighing on my mind since our previous conversation, points I had forgotten to interject at the time, so I seized this opportunity to revive the discussion.

We wound up conversing for nearly three hours.

Fascinating as the ecosystem topic again proved to be, we actually spoke even more at length regarding something of far greater potential impact, more so than I'd ever fathomed. Years ago I had read various legends, what I had assumed to be timeless allegories even, about a monstrous Calamity that was sealed away several millennia ago. The princess stated with all adamance that these stories were, in fact, the product of an actual historical event, citing the recent excavation of countless relics from that supposed age as substantiating evidence. I suppose something of this nature is entirely possible, but she went on to assert her concerns that this Calamity may somehow stand to again pose a threat in this day and age. I...suppose that, too, is possible, but it quite simply doesn't seem a plausible event within our lifetime. I respect Her Highness profoundly, more and more so the more I interact with her, indeed, but her arguments do not convince me that we are in any immediate danger from this magical beast of legend. Rather than contradict her theories, though, it sufficed me to listen and nod as I basked in her uplifting presence.

She then proceeded to truly make my day. I felt guilty for having taken up so much of her time and in apologizing for such rattled off a self-abasing quip about my forcing her to stare into the face of an ugly old man all afternoon, and though I cannot recall precisely how she worded it, she responded with something to the effect of my being neither. Now, I won't go so far as to delude myself with the notion she was paying me anything other than a mere gesture of courtesy, but the fact remains that she could have easily excused herself from my presence at any moment. In essence, it suddenly became clear that superficial qualities are of no significance to her when in my company. I was simply a man with whom she was (presumably) enjoying a conversation. Such an affable disposition I can only conclude must come to her as naturally as her enchanting smile.

But enough of my ramblings. In any event, I believe I can finally feel the rusty cogs in this head beginning to creak to life again. Even the air in each breath has become a little sweeter, each step a trifle lighter. What I once deemed impossible no longer feels beyond my reach.

I just may pull this off.


	5. Whatever It Takes

**September 7th**

I am such a fool.

Two hours have passed since the conclusion of the royal celebration. On the whole, it was all quite splendid, an experience unquestionably worthy of Her Royal Highness. Intricate ice sculptures, golden utensils, an exquisite sixteen-tier cake...and I suppose I must admit that Carlaisle's infuriating last-minute revisions did serve well to better complement the coordination of the music with the presentation of the royal guard. An unforgettable evening, beyond doubt, and yet I find it already blurring together in my memory, all of it overshadowed by one horrendous moment.

Since my last entry in this journal I had been deathly afraid to write of my work's progress for fear of jinxing my momentum. Little did I realize that my blunder lay in wait not to flow from the tip of my pen but of my tongue.

Her Highness looked positively breathtaking. Her gold-embellished gown struck a perfect harmony with the adornments of the room and caused her emerald eyes to simply sparkle. I had crossed paths with her from time to time over the past several weeks since our conversation pertaining to the Calamity, but those encounters had all merely consisted of a cordial greeting and a brief exchange of the trivial formalities a nobleman utters to royalty in passing. My lips ached to speak at length with her again, my eyes to gaze into hers, my sweet poetry in motion. But she caught me off guard, having stepped over to my side as I stood somewhat idly near the banquet table, my mind at that moment absorbed in Carlaisle's final movement for the night.

"Are you enjoying the party, Mister Sweet?"

I whirled about and felt my face flush somewhere between the hue of a schoolboy and a dirty old man, and I brought a fist to my mouth to feign a cough, spilling some of the cocktail in my hand. Her smile broadened and she apologized for having startled me. I don't even recall much of what was said after that, other than her graciously paying high compliments to the music and at some point mentioning that the celebratory decor, as well as her attire, were in part inspired by the appearance of the excavated relics that we had discussed before. My sensibility, all the while, was floundering lost in the cumulative atmosphere of tantalizing sights and sounds, particularly those radiating before me.

And that's the moment when I began to bray the foolhardy prattlings of the foolish fool I am.

"Well," I said, "at this rate I imagine you'll have a ravishing number ready for when that Calamity rears up and we do whatever it takes to seal it away again." Something like that. I don't know what in the name of Hylia I was thinking. Thinking, I say, as if that were part of the equation.

Almost immediately her smile faltered, and not even a minute afterward, she excused herself. The dreaded get-away-from-this-awful-person excusal. Oh, I was so mortified. I don't know if I came across as though I were mocking her belief in the Calamity threat, or if I just sounded like an old pervert. Or a mocking old pervert. I watched her intently as she mingled with other guests, desperate for a chance to approach her and apologize profusely for any and all offense and yet far too terrified to do so. And then, of course, that old coot Carlaisle has to waddle up to me.

"Edwin! I have been over there waving and trying everything I can to get your attention for the last five minutes. What are you looking at?" He turned to look but failed to see. I told him that I wasn't feeling well and needed to retire for the evening, which I soon did, and I've been shut up in my room since, hoping to die and melt away.

But alas...that would be far too convenient.


	6. Looming Terror

**September 22nd**

I have still failed to speak again with Princess Zelda. What few opportunities have presented themselves have been thwarted by my sniveling cowardice, my fears of what she will say, or worse, won't. I couldn't bear to approach her only to be met with eyes and a voice of ice.

And speaking of ice...I overheard something today that has caused my blood to run stark cold. There was a handful of soldiers congregated in the corridor just outside the observation room where I was eating lunch today, off duty but still in uniform. Most of them were elitists, as given away by their royal guard attire, and they were discussing none other than the impending Calamity. The very fact that _they_ were speaking of it was unsettling, but their words ushered a sobering realization: they know more about this Calamity situation than the average citizen. A great deal more.

Everyone in the land is well aware of the excavation of relics that has been ongoing for over a decade now, but apparently they are more than merely ancient artifacts. Those odd contraptions and the massive Divine Beasts...are weapons from a great war. Qualified individuals are being discreetly sought from around the entire kingdom to pilot the Beasts in order to combat the looming Calamity. Calamity Cannon, they call it. Is it, too, a giant weapon of sorts?

These men gave every indication that this threat is indeed very real and very imminent, just as Her Highness had attempted to convey to that imbecile in the library. And most disconcerting of all, she is ill-fated to have to face it...with magic she doesn't even know how to use. _She_ is the one who is supposed to seal it away! It's excruciatingly clear now why my words upset her. I'm a foolish, mocking pervert who's suggested we'll need an alternative means of defeating the Calamity! Egad!

Whatever hour this doomsday shall strike, I know not and dare not speculate. I'm powerless against such details, regardless, but there is one stone in my hands, and by far of the utmost importance. I can be there for the princess.

Yes, It's settled. I shall make my apology to Her Highness at my earliest opportunity. She must know of a surety that, in contrast to the royal guard, with me she has someone who believes in her and can be counted upon for support.


	7. Admission

**September 24th**

All is forgiven! Oh, my heart beats again!

Such a warm, radiant soul...the very definition of a princess! She assured me that there was no foul between us, that my folly was fit to be forgotten. "Please think nothing of it," she said. Never have I produced words that have sounded so beautiful to my ears. Heartened anew, I proceeded to express my confidence in and support for her as well, which she gratefully accepted.

If that Calamity should befall us tonight, I will die complete. Calamity GANON, that is. I had misheard the soldiers, but Her Highness has remedied that as well. It's almost amusing; the topic is nothing short of morbid, yet when she begins to speak of those ancient relics and their ties to the shrines, her entire demeanor glows with a wellspring of passion. In those precious moments, I cannot help but love her all the more.

There. I said it. Age and aesthetics be damned, I'm utterly smitten. It's not like anyone else will ever lay eyes on these pages anyway. And though she may never reciprocate my love, I pray it shall suffice me to admire her beauty as one does an ancient blue flame...near enough to feel the warmth but respecting that it can never be touched.

Sleep well, my darling princess. May your dreams be Sweet.


	8. Eminence

**January 1st**

Well, well...I'd all but forgotten about this journal. Considering its original intended purpose, I consider that a rather good thing...that, and the fact that I haven't found it necessary to pour my heart out into a hollow, secluded outlet. I suppose I ought to record an update of sorts, though.

The princess and I have been getting along swimmingly. We now meet by a certain fountain in Castle Town for lunch once a week whenever the demands of her royal duties permit her to do so. But these outings are of a strictly platonic nature; I'm fairly certain she remains unaware of my feelings for her, in fact, which is likely for the best. Whatever the case, it's a cherished honor that she considers me a dear enough friend to reserve time for me in her schedule.

Meanwhile, thanks in part to the success of our coordinated efforts for Her Highness' birthday celebration, Carlaisle and I have been working more closely together, on a multitude of projects. Under his (at times irritatingly) meticulous guidance, I've been trying my hand at musical composition, and thus far we're rather pleased with my progress. For a few weeks now I've been secretly working on a song dedicated to my lovely Zelda that I hope to someday play for her. Someday. Perhaps. For the time being, I'd best brush up on my violin playing as well.

Other than that, the annual Coliseum Games concluded last week. A rousing show, as always, but certainly more so now that I'm privileged to enjoy it from the sector of royal service. I'm told my predecessor rarely attended the games, only having done so on two occasions, one of them being just before his retirement earlier this year. ...Wait, that would now be _last_ year. Already fouling that up, ha! But the view was excellent save that it only offered a somewhat disappointing view of the princess.

Three members of the royal guard achieved elite status this time around, one of them barely appearing old enough to even be a soldier, let alone in the royal guard. The non-battle events brimmed with very impressive talent as well. Perhaps I should compete next time, in archery! Not that I would stand a chance to win anything, but I'm certain it would be quite the experience, and it would be a prime opportunity to impress her with an art more masculine than poetry.

Hm. These things are all fine and well, but what's a new year's entry without a touch of festivity? This calls for a spontaneous haiku:

Winter's chill is here  
But my heart stays warm all day  
Because of her smile

Not exactly prize winning, but no words lauding her are ever wasted!


	9. The Sword

**March 2nd**

I'm writing today with a troubled heart, an ache that echoes the distress of my beloved princess. When I met her at the fountain today, I could sense immediately that something was amiss. Her pain is my pain, after all. After a bit of mild coaxing, she finally came out with the matter - somewhat.

"We have the sword," was all she mumbled.

I recalled her mentioning a number of swords among the relics in one of our conversations, but the significance of her statement eluded me. "...The sword?"

She then relayed the legend of a truly unique blade, one capable of cutting evil itself. It's said that the sword chooses its own wielder, the soul who is destined to defeat Calamity Ganon so that she can seal it away once more.

A soldier of the royal guard had recently returned with that very sword.

She also informed me that the Champions who will be piloting the Divine Beasts had all been appointed and are going to be meeting in the castle tomorrow.

"The only thing they're all waiting on now is me."

Immediately I knew to what she was referring. Her sealing power had yet to surface in the slightest. I hardly knew what to say. Despite my every effort to reassure her, I could see in her eyes that it provided her minimal comfort. She thanked me for my words nonetheless, the gracious lady that she is.

I've spent the rest of the day pondering ways to brighten her spirits, something less obvious and expected than poetry. As much as I would delight in performing my song for her, I'm afraid that piece is very far from ready. Regarding other options, her favorite flower is the Silent Princess, so I considered tracking one of those down, but those are traditionally given as an expression of love, so I thought better of it and decided I best give her something less blatantly implicative. Chocolates would be wonderful, but it would likely take a week or longer to acquire some. Hmm….

It's almost time to meet with Carlaisle, and I've yet to wash up. I suppose my quest will have to wait for now.


	10. Unheard

**April 13th**

Things have been peculiar around the castle as of late. Seems there's a growing commotion just under the surface of each social circle, voices murmuring words I can't quite catch. Even though simple logic assures this has nothing to do with me, I cannot help but feel increasingly self-conscious and uneasy.

Earlier today I had just returned from Deya Village and was about to step out the stable entrance when, lo and behold, in gushed Her Royal Highness herself, nearly colliding in full force with me - not that I would have minded as much. Following her breathless apologies, I inquired as to where she could be off to in such haste. She claimed she was setting out to "conduct some research," but with an added twist; she didn't want her appointed knight following her, so she was frankly sneaking off without him.

"Why do you not want your appointed knight to accompany-" The words were still leaving my mouth when she launched into a tirade.

"I don't need an escort! I've traveled all over Hyrule on my own in the past and have been perfectly fine. I've told him this again and again, and still he insists on following me, like I'm too much of a helpless child to handle myself!" She kept glancing over her shoulder as she spoke, as though he could materialize at any second.

"Oh, now, Princess, surely he doesn't think that."

"Well I wouldn't know, since he hasn't said two words to me since he was appointed! Oh, wait, I asked him a question a few weeks ago and he said 'No, Princess,' so he has said two words! TWO!" She held the same number of fingers up to my face in case I'd missed the count. "I never have any idea what he's thinking and it drives me crazy! Even _more_ crazy!"

It was all I could do to refrain from bursting out in laughter. I'd never seen her quite like this. The passion was there, just as when she would speak of the relics and Divine Beasts, but this time with a fire under it that I found both stimulating and almost a little frightening. When I asserted that there has been a recent increase in monsters cropping up and suggested she may be in danger without an escort, her eyes narrowed with another, sharper sentiment.

' _Not you too._ '

Unwilling to contest her wishes, I lent a hand in readying her steed so she could depart all the quicker, then took it upon myself to linger by the stable, to see for myself this appointed knight she'd found to be such a pest.

I didn't wait long. Just short of two minutes transpired before he dashed past me after his own horse, a young boy sporting a hideous ponytail. I realized that he was one of the three soldiers who had attained elite status at the Coliseum Games only a few months prior, the one who I'd wondered whether was even of permissible age to be there.

And he had the sword. THE sword. Her Highness had shared numerous illustrations with me, the likeness of which was unmistakable.

To an extent, I can understand the king's logic. This boy's sparring abilities are indeed second to none, as I've witnessed firsthand. If I were in His Majesty's shoes I'd have likely made the same choice for Her Highness. On the same token, however, the princess is clearly distraught over her inability to summon the power that complements that of the sword, and now it's out there following her around, relentlessly rubbing her only fault in her face.

Perhaps that was the king's intention.

Whatever the case, it pains my heart to ponder it. It may very well be the subject buzzing under everyone's breath, and perhaps rightfully so. How I wish there were something more I could do. If only I were your appointed knight, my dearest princess. I can do naught but envy that silent boy with the sword.


	11. Out to Lunch

**April 22nd**

Today I again ate lunch alone at the fountain by which Princess Zelda and I ordinarily meet once a week. I knew in all likelihood that she wouldn't be there, as I hadn't seen her around at all since the day she sneaked off on her appointed knight, but the routine had developed into something of a habit for me, and I suppose my longing for her company also fed into my motivation to be there, just in case. A lump of apprehension was forming in the midst of my chest, what with my having allowed her to ride off without an escort against my better judgment. What if the boy had failed to catch up to her, and something unthinkable had happened? What if _he_ were the unthinkable thing that happened, furious that she had humiliated him in that manner? My imagination continued to run wild until a single, frigid raindrop landed squarely on my nose. Was she, too, facing this dreary weather? I prayed she was safe and warm as I dragged myself off the fountain's edge and began to meander west toward home, glad I had opted to don my cloak this morning.

Carlaisle and two acquaintances caught sight of me on their way to the castle from the forest park, and every soul in East Castle Town turned as my name bellowed across it in his jovial voice. For his friends' sake I made a nominal effort to subdue my annoyance with him as they approached, until I realized that they were merely Hugh and Khloe.

Of the entire Hyrulean Orchestra, I'd say those two are by far Carlaisle's closest cohorts. I've always been impressed by how well they get along despite their glaring differences. Hugh, the conductor, is a rigid, balding man with oversized spectacles that nearly always manage to gleam right into my eyes, while Khloe is an elegant cellist about Carlaisle's age with a curious sense of humor - the fact that she appears to delight in his company being a case in point.

I dutifully exchanged the typical formalities with the trio, and Carlaisle extended an invitation for me to join them for an impromptu accordion-cello session in the castle. "You could play your violin!"

"And Hugh's bringing cookies," Khloe added, already carrying a melody in her voice. I glanced at Hugh, who shrugged the wrapped bundle clutched snugly in one arm.

I must have needed an escape from my worries. "...Sure." They appeared a bit surprised that I had accepted, but they all seemed genuinely pleased.

We were nearing the castle under a tease of sprinkles when by chance my gaze wandered westward, quickly drawing into focus upon a young woman pacing slowly toward Central Square.

It was _her_.

I halted abruptly and was nearly bowled over by Carlaisle's abounding belly. I blinked at all of them, suddenly breathless. "I...just recalled something to which I must attend, immediately. My apologies. I'll catch up with you." I didn't even await their responses before setting off in the princess' direction, the lump in my chest swelling ever larger.

She was wearing an informal dress, an indication that she had been home for some time. Her movements were so sluggish and indeliberate, her emerald eyes a hundred miles off.

"...Your Highness?" I finally called to her as I drew near. She stopped and slowly lifted her face, breaking into a faint smile.

"Good morning, Mister Sweet." Her greeting intensified my concerns; it was well after noon. It's very uncharacteristic of her to hold such a loose grasp of time.

"Is everything all right? You seem...not quite yourself."

"Oh, yes, forgive me. I'm afraid I've got a lot on my mind. We just got back from the Gerudo Desert last night."

 _Last night_? And she had missed our lunch? It was also considerably unlike her, but I dared not bring it up. I instead sought to clarify another aspect.

"We?"

"Link and I."

I stood staring for a moment, scouring my mind for someone of that name, to no avail. "Link...?"

"My, um," she paused to tap her head as if to nudge the words free, "appointed knight."

"Oh, oh yes, of course! I take it he caught up to you, then?"

"Yes. And I apologized for...everything. I should apologize to you as well. It was very discourteous of me the way I behaved at the stable."

I huffed at that. "Nothing doing! You've nothing for which to apologize to me, Princess."

Our words were cut short by a distant rumble of thunder, soon thereafter the rain began its true onslaught. I promptly urged Her Highness to take her leave, but not without offering her my hooded cloak. She declined at first but quickly caved to my staunch insistence.

"Thank you, Mister Sweet."

"And I also insist you call me Edwin. Again."

She knew it was far from the first time I'd made that request, and the smile I adore so finally emerged. "Thank you, Edwin."

With that, I saw her off, standing soaked in Central Square as her figure faded into the descending torrent. I never did join Carlaisle and the others afterward. My heart was too heavy, as were my clothes.

Mulling it all over now, I'm dreadfully unsure what to make of it. The Gerudo region is a solid distance from here; perhaps she was simply tired from the long journey. Or is there something she's not telling me?

And did she ever recall our missed lunch date?


	12. Dawning Duties

**May 27th**

Ah, I so delight in rising with the sun. It's a solid contender for the rank retained by acute indigestion among my finest fancies.

I was enjoying quite the euphoric dream, too, effortlessly gliding like a Rito over snow-capped peaks, on one of which stood my radiant Zelda. She appeared to be dressed in light itself, reaching out with one hand as if beckoning me to swoop down and catch hold of it. As I descended and drew near to her, I could just begin to make out the roseate tips of her own glorious peaks. No sooner than I had extended my own hand to hers a pounding thunder filled the sky, and I found myself jolting awake in bed, the "thunder" continuing to pound upon my front door.

Without bothering to change from my nightclothes, I forced the door open so abruptly that the man standing there jumped a bit. I recognized him as one of the royal ministers of domestic affairs, or whatever it is they like to call themselves. Behind him, daylight had yet to spill over the eastern landscape. He took a moment to recompose himself.

"Good morning."

"Is it?"

"His Royal Majesty has commanded that a statement be issued regarding our mobilization for the Calamity threat. Rumors and falsehoods have begun to circulate, and it's imperative the situation be prevented from escalating into a widespread panic," blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. I'd ceased listening at this point. Perhaps someday they'll come to grasp that I'm not one to disturb at this hour.

My career is essentially simple; I play on words to cast the king in a positive light to his people, no matter what the circumstances. Explaining the endeavors of the royal guard and everything else? Their task. All I care to know, Sir, is precisely what you want from me and when you require it.

He was still blathering on when a distinctive white figure caught my view just over his shoulder. Stepping prominently through Central Square, the royal steed was ushering its precious treasure away on yet another venture, her glory even less mistakable in the bleak dawn. The appointed knight rode close behind, the muddy hues of his own horse blending with the remaining darkness into the illusion that he was riding her very shadow.

Her comings and goings had become something of a common sight in recent weeks, but watching her depart always carried the same sting. We've long ago suspended our weekly lunch dates due to her frequent absences. I see more of her now in my dreams, and even that privilege had been ripped from me today.

"Where is Her Highness setting off to at this hour?" I cut into the minister's words. He blinked and twisted about.

"...Eldin." His frown had deepened when he turned back to me. "I want something from you by this time tomorrow. If I'm not in, just leave it on my desk."

Finally. I nodded, the door already swinging shut. "Very well."

I'm seated here writing this now not because I found this morning's events so enthralling that I couldn't resist the overwhelming desire to record them, but because less than an hour after I returned to bed, I was awakened once again by a profound racket, this time echoing from behind my house. I shoved open a window and peered out over the quarry off the west side of Castle Town to the sight of two blue bokoblins, flailing and crying out as they fled in vain from a giant….

...What _was_ that thing?!

At best I can only liken it to a massive mechanical spider, or perhaps a crab. Engraved contours along its bell-shaped body glowed an eerie orange, more brightly than a luminous stone, and its six legs maneuvered with the fluidity of tentacles. It pursued the bokoblins with astounding agility, a strange red beam stretching from it to one of the creatures like a taut rope. Then, all at once, a thunderous explosion launched the bokoblin at least ten feet, and its blackened carcass landed in flames. Mere seconds passed before the other monster met the same gruesome fate. It was a horrific scene, but I couldn't tear my eyes from it.

Perhaps I should have paid more mind to the minister's words earlier.

By this time a crowd had gathered along the west side of town to the rising chorus of curious and frightened voices. We all gaped on as a stout man confidently began to approach the monstrosity, his snowy white hair rolled up in a tight bun and his contour cleaving apparel bearing a bold red Sheikah emblem. The mechanical beast's head turned to him in a smooth pivot until it took him into its sights, and my hands' grip on the windowsill tightened in anticipation of what was about to transpire.

Thank Hylia, there was no explosion. Instead, the beast's glowing veins faded from orange to luminous stone blue, much in the manner of a lizalfos, and it became motionless before the man, seemingly waiting. The man raised an arm high, then brought it down in a pronounced sweep. Instantly the beast's body sank to the ground, and all of the glowing ceased.

And then the man turned and walked away.

That grotesque contraption is still down there, just as he left it. I've observed a handful of brave souls venture down into the quarry to investigate, but no one's dared to touch it yet. I, for one, certainly have no intentions of going anywhere remotely near it. Besides, that Calamity propaganda poem isn't going to write itself, and it's just grown a bit more complicated.

At least this time I'm not without inspiration.


	13. That Thing

**May 28th**

That thing is gone.

According to the official statement announced this morning to the public (to which I contributed by far the most riveting segment), it's called a Guardian, and it's going to be part of a new line of defense for the entire kingdom.

Nonsense, really. I prefer the name Mega Glowing Tentacle Spider Boom-bastic Death Dealer, which coincidentally I coined myself.

But it vanished overnight, and no one with whom I've spoken thus far saw or heard anything. Did it wake and leave on its own, I wonder, or did someone come and retrieve it?

And where is it now?

If perchance I, too, should suddenly vanish from this mortal coil, and Calamity Ganon has not yet sprung, may this diary serve as a guide: Comb the quarry for another barbecued body.


	14. Anticipation

**June 9th**

At long last, this journal can once again be graced with the strokes of pleasant tidings. Precisely two weeks from now, I shall be traveling to Akkala in the company of several other blue-blooded persons of service to the royal family, to attend a Unity Day concert performed by the Tabanthan Rito Troupe, a world famous and highly acclaimed traveling orchestra. Carlaisle claims that this is the first time in nearly three years they shall be performing within the borders of Hyrule, which makes our being invited as distinguished guests all the more an honor. There stands only one other opportunity in this world I would choose over this - and though it's blatantly obvious I shan't state what it is, as professed wishes rarely come true.

Sorry, Ganon, you're just going to have to wait. This will be too extraordinary to miss!


	15. The Morning After

**July 2nd**

Today is actually the 3rd of July. I was far too upset yesterday to write of its events. My hand was trembling too much, too inclined to gouge through the remaining pages with the tip of this sterling pen. Even now my self restraint is being taxed within shreds of its limit.

May as well begin with my fleeting moment of joy. I refuse to deprive the deserving of the credit they're due over the abhorrence that has encroached on my life.

The trip to Akkala was gorgeous, and the Tabanthan Rito Troupe was nothing short of spectacular. Its fine, feathered musicians have mastered the art of harmonizing and literally carried it to a new level, sweeping into movements from straight out of the sky. My hands were both raw by the time the performers took their bows, having applauded so passionately and so often. And afterward, as if their concert wasn't treat enough, they presented each member of the audience with a parting gift - four fine chocolates in a gold-dusted ornamental keepsake box.

Chocolates! I was delighted, knowing precisely for whom I would be reserving mine. I even purchased a souvenir blanket in which to wrap the box, to further protect it in my bag from the summer heat. Though the wind is refreshingly cool by the time it rolls across these regions off the western mountains, I decided against taking any chances.

Upon my return home a few days ago I discovered more propaganda assignments slipped under my front door. Physically I was exhausted at this point, but the energy that remained within my soul from its divine experience served as an excellent source of midnight oil. I even churned out a few pages of extracurricular poetry while I was at it.

And then, yesterday morning, my sweet princess returned as well. Though profoundly eager to bestow my gift upon her, I summoned the discipline to wait, to allow her time to rest and recover a bit from her own travels before being bombarded by my affections. Seven hours I waited, hoping to present her after supper with the perfect dessert. Seven torturous hours. I endured them all only to arrive at the royal dining hall too late, having just missed her departure by minutes. Assuming her to be retiring to her room, I hastened to catch up to her en route.

Lest I miss an agonizing detail, allow me to record the rest of today's events verbatim.

The final corridor that leads to Her Highness' bedroom consists of a stretch of about twenty feet followed by a steep flight of several steps that are separated by a landing halfway up. She was three steps past that landing when I pulled the first door open, thoroughly winded.

"Princess," I barely managed to wheeze as she spun around in surprise, the vaulted ceiling allowing her a clear view below.

"Oh, Mr. Sweet," she began, this time catching herself. "Ah, I mean, Edwin! Good evening."

I'd have chuckled that she finally remembered if I weren't so busy panting. "Good evening…. F-forgive me…. I need a moment to...catch my breath…." She began to descend the steps, but I raised a hand in protest. "Please remain where you are…." Finally I managed to close the gap and joined her on the landing, all the more spent. "I just returned...from a concert...where I got these...and wanted to…." I trailed off as she erupted in laughter, having failed at her efforts to stifle it.

"I'm so sorry! You must have come a terribly long way. Please take your time."

I allowed a few additional aspirations before resuming, "I...received these at a concert and recalled that...you had never tried them, so...I wished to give you these." I extended the box to her upon my fingertips, which I had further adorned with a sheer red ribbon, tied at the top into a flawless bow. She drew an awestruck breath as she plucked it gingerly and cradled it in her own hands.

"Oh, how thoughtful! Thank you, Edwin. Such a lovely box, I can't wait to see what's inside!" She was yet speaking when the lower door opened once again, and this time a common servant entered bearing a covered platter. The princess' eyes widened a bit with recollection. "Oh, here, both of you, please come up to the room." She then led the way up the remaining steps and inside, stepping hastily over to a nearby end table to clear it of the books and papers scattered across it. I entered next and assumed a spot beside the door so as to allow ample room for the servant, who joined us moments later. Having set my gift upon her bed, the princess received the platter with due gratitude, releasing it onto the table and whisking away its dome in what came off as a single graceful motion. Under it, an exquisitely iced single-serving fruit cake stared back at us with wildberry eyes and a sliced banana smile.

Her favorite - and she'd opted to enjoy it tonight, of all nights. I cursed inwardly for my terrible timing.

"It looks wonderful. Thank you again," she assured the servant, who bowed and strode out the door, proceeding to draw it to a close behind her. "Oh, please leave it be." She nodded as the bumbling girl pushed it back wide and offered another apologetic bow. "Thank you."

"...It appears you've already got dessert set in order," I lamented as Her Highness returned her attention to the golden box.

"Oh, that's going to be a gift for someone," she replied as she drew out one end of the shimmering ribbon, instantly reviving my spirits. I observed with scantly bridled anticipation as the bow's unraveled ends fell to dangle from her hand and she carefully lifted the unfettered lid. "...Cocoas! Wait, what did you call them? Chocos…?"

I fought to suppress a chuckle, instead donning a ridiculous grin. "Chocolates."

"Chocolates, yes! Thank you! I'm going to try one right now!" And try one she did, with all the effortless grace I've come to adore about her so, raising a truffle to her lips between her thumb and two fingers and exacting a delicate bite. My brow lifted as I awaited her reaction. "...Oh, it'sh delicioush!" She hadn't even waited to swallow.

"I knew you would love them!" I answered, again with the idiotic grin.

Then another woman's voice met the room. "Your Highness?" We both turned to the open door, where a different servant stood bowing.

The princess was certainly popular tonight.

"Yes?"

"Forgive the interruption, Princess, but you requested to be informed when your appointed knight returned from the Maritta Exchange."

"Oh, he's back? Wonderful, thank you!" She then turned to me. "Please excuse me for just a moment, Edwin." She lifted the edge of her dress and virtually trotted to another door, forcing it open to reveal the walkway to her study. She wasted no time stepping out and leaning to peer over the thick battlement ledge. After a few moments she began waving widely with one arm, holding back the draping sleeve with the other.

Curious, I took it upon myself to join her, stopping just beyond the doorway. I followed her gaze to the ground level, where three soldiers stood conversing near the first gatehouse, one of them undoubtedly being her appointed knight. "...Is everything all right?"

"I asked him to pick up something for me while he was at the exchange. I just need to make sure he got it." She continued to wave but failed to secure the boy's attention. "Ugh, he won't look up here!"

I blinked and glanced behind myself into the room. "Perhaps you could try a mirror?"

"Oh, good idea!" She hurried back inside and soon emerged with one in her grasp. With the sun already so low in the crimson sky it took her quite a few moments to get it to achieve the effect she wanted, to the point that I grew concerned the boy would leave before she could direct the beam to him. But finally she succeeded, and finally he looked up. She then set the mirror down and began gesturing with both hands, appearing to grasp something with one and pour into it with the other. He squinted at her, clearly not understanding, so she resorted to another charade, breaking an imaginary stick, pouring once again, and a few other signals I couldn't even identify. At last he blinked in recognition, returning two gestures of his own - a thumbs up and four fanned fingers. The princess beamed. "Four? Excellent!" A giddy giggle escaped her. "Outstanding, as always."

 _Outstanding? As always?_ I'm uncertain whether it was what she said or how she said it, but I found myself rather taken aback by her words, so much so that I visibly flinched. It was certainly a far cry from the pest she'd described him to be in the past. In my naivety, though, I reasoned that she had simply grown to appreciate his efforts, bearing no inkling of the extent that course had taken.

The princess stepped past me back into the room, her eyes falling back on the cake. "Oh yes, I need to get this wrapped up." I watched in silence, wondering who would be the lucky recipient as she selected a pristine embroidered handkerchief from her desk drawer and carefully transferred the cake over onto it. She then reached for the golden box, removing one of the chocolates and nestling it between the fruit, effectively creating a nose for the face. I cracked a new smile as she glanced my direction. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Oh, not at all! They're yours to do with as you please, Princess." I returned inside, slowly shutting the door behind me. "So how have things been on your travels?"

"Decent." She brought the corners of the handkerchief together and tied them into a bulky knot. "Research has been slow, but I believe we're making progress. The field surveys have turned up a lot of new shrines."

I nodded. "Good to hear. Has that boy given you any more grief?"

"Oh, no, we're getting along much better now. He even talks a little, sometimes." Her lips curled with sudden amusement.

I nodded again, sensing an awkward silence was fast approaching. "Well, it's getting late, and you're probably ready to retire. I'd best leave you to yourself, Princess."

"Actually I've still got a couple of errands to run around the castle," she noted, reaching once more for the golden box.

"Oh, is there any way I may be of assistance?"

"They're just 'princess' matters, but thank you." Transferring the box to her desk across the room, she popped the half-consumed truffle in her mouth before replacing its lid. It kindled my heart to see her enjoy it.

I couldn't resist asking. "Well, if you're going to be departing now, I'd be more than happy to accompany you to the round hall, if you wish."

She lifted the wrapped cake by its tremendous knot. "That would be splendid, thank you."

 _Splendid!_ My heart fluttered with glee. Ah, the sweet bliss of ignorance.

She and I shared yet another fascinating conversation for the duration of our walk together, but its details are of no bearing on the situation at hand, so I'll suffice to say she imparted various highlights of her experiences and findings while visiting Zora's Domain and its neighboring regions. Might I add, though, that if this Vah Ruta she mentioned is anywhere near as deadly as the Guardian in the quarry, we indeed shall have a terrifying arsenal at our disposal come the Calamity. For her sake, I'm glad of it.

Entirely too soon we arrived at what is informally referred to by castle patrons as the round hall, a massive curved corridor to which many of the castle's other passages connect. This was where we were to part ways, but oh so little did I know just how much was about to be rent from me here. The door that harbored my route home stood precisely halfway down the hall's entire length, but she hadn't disclosed her destination.

"Well, Princess, I verily thank you for gracing me with your company," I recited the due formality, though by no means without sincerity. Rather, my deprived heart was now positively swollen with a fresh refill of quality time.

"It is I who should be thanking you," she responded in kind. "Your gift was very thoughtful. It was very... _Sweet_ of you!" She grinned sheepishly as I slapped both hands over my face in jest.

"Oh, the dreaded triple pun! Princess!" Ordinarily I would have cringed, having suffered through these silly references my entire life, but from her it was gold.

"I apologize!" she laughed. "But in all seriousness, I appreciate your gift very much. Ch...chocolates!" Her brow lifted as she paused to glance at me, and I returned an approving nod.

"That's right. And the pleasure was entirely mine."

By this time we had just reached the door through which I would be making my exit. I was about to bid Her Highness good night when one of the nearby doors swept open with a distinctive groan. Initially I paid it no mind, what with our having already crossed paths with at least three servants since we'd set foot in the hall, but the princess intently leaned aside to see, which in turn drew my own interest.

And lo and behold, in walked the appointed knight himself.

"There you are," she called out, then turned back to me in what I expected would be the continuation of our conversation, but such would not be the case. "Edwin," her voice assumed a slight air of formality, "I'd like you to meet my appointed knight Link." And then she compounded my surprise by addressing _him_ , "Link, this is Edwin, the court poet."

As he approached us I stood frozen, appalled. The princess of Hyrule had just introduced me to a commoner on a _first name basis_. I'm sure my face had to have been betraying my disdain when he offered his idea of a greeting - a single, silent nod. I forced a crooked hint of a smile in return.

"...Pleased."

Surely she sensed my discomfort. "I won't keep you any longer, Edwin. Thank you again."

"Likewise. Good night, Your Highness," a stony edge had crept into my own tone. As soon as she returned the parting bid, I set off through my exit, making a point of omitting even so much as another instance of eye contact with the boy lest he get the impression our interaction was in any sense appropriate. Their footsteps and her voice began to trail down the hall as the door crept shut behind me, the words still easily discernible.

"Let me see the elixirs. I can't believe you managed to get four of them! Now I can really expand my study. Thank you, Link. Oh, and this is for you."

My foot hung mid-step, my entire body motionless for but an instant before I tore back to the door, catching it on my arm before it could clasp shut and peering through the gap after them down the hall. And there, in her outstretched hand, was the wrapped up cake. The exquisitely iced, exotic fruit-topped, one of four extremely rare chocolates-crowned cake. He reached out and received it as they continued around the bend and out of sight, and I heard his voice for the first time.

"Thank you, Princess."

By now my gape had contorted to an expression somewhere between disbelief and disgust, my lips silently disclosing the word that was screaming through my mind.

 _WHY?!_

Of all the persons to whom she could have gifted such a delectable cake, and my chocolates, _why him_?! Because he had run an errand? Nonsense! Catering to her whims was among his duties, and one doesn't repay sticks with diamonds!

Still I failed to see it. Failed to understand.

No, it wasn't until after he had departed through the hall's far end and she assumed herself to remain alone in that corridor that it finally became clear. I crouched motionless at the telltale clacks of her returning footfalls, reducing the door's gap to a sliver. Pressing my face against it, I gained a clear one-eyed view of her rounding the bend, swaying the bundled elixirs and her nearly floor length sleeves before her like breeze-caressed willow boughs. I squinted, uncertain what she was attempting to accomplish, when a new sound met my ears.

She was humming.

I studied her face - her soft, distant eyes and lackadaisical smile - and in a single, timeless moment realized that I was seeing a reflection of myself. That is, I saw _it_ \- one of doubtlessly countless episodes of aimless, carefree behavior that I had come to exhibit myself, in my case consisting of endlessly swirled beverages, midnight fountain-side strolls, and my greeting potted flowers on my way past - all ever since she had unknowingly become the queen of my world. Our symptoms differed, but the ailment was identical.

Princess Zelda was in love.

My breaths resigned to stasis, a calamity far worse than the likes of Ganon having just befallen my world. As I staggered from the door I could feel the shards of my heart tumble random paths among my ribs and shower upon the stones that were now my feet.

Long ago I vowed that if she never grew to recognize and requite my love, I would resign myself to adore her from a distance, the card I've indeed played without exception. In a likened sense, though it would have pained me to behold it, I believe I could have accepted it if her heart were whisked away by a prince hailing from a distant land, or even by another nobleman of our kingdom. But this...my flawless, precious princess, my Zelda...being wasted on a common _dog_...why, it's greater than my dignity can bear.

Perhaps this has all been too much for her. A monstrous evil looms, due to unfurl death and destruction upon our fair land at any moment, and all hope rides upon magic she's yet to even wield, let alone master. Her own people speak ill of her in her wake, and her only family, her father, is far too occupied with his own royal duties to offer adequate support. To whom else is she to cling but her obligatory companion through months of otherwise forlorn solitary research, the boy who whose sword emanates the power for which she so desperately yearns? She cannot be faulted for regressing to her fundamental instincts in the face of such overwhelming adversity...and vagrant vermin certainly cannot be expected to resist such vulnerability.

In my devastated haze, I found myself wandering far from my intended route, an empty assembly of flesh and bones decidedly content to exist anywhere but home. Blushing pink petals littered my trail through sixteen neat rose-dotted courtyard hedges, each now a wall of barren stems. I dusted the last from my hands as I pondered the untread trails that now sprawled before me.

Which avenue, then? Was it my lot to step back and allow this rose to be ground between canine teeth? By what means could I even fight to save it? A physical confrontation would clearly be neither appropriate nor intelligent. No, this dilemma would require a more psychological approach, I determined, something that would pry apart those dripping jaws without sacrificing their prey, even at the risk of my losing my own hand. But essentially it was a hardly a risk; my life would cease to hold value otherwise. It virtually already had. I couldn't fathom my situation becoming any worse...until I rounded a corner past the final row of bushes and found myself staring up at the vibrant blue veins of that missing Guardian.

I have since discovered that home is not such an unbearable place to be.


	16. Confrontations

**July 5th**

Here I perch once again, the paltry poet about to purge more putrid details into his pathetic love journal...or shall I say hate journal...or shall I say developing autobiography. It would appear my soul has discovered refuge within these pages and has grown fond of allowing itself to pour out onto them. It's just as well; nothing else in this wretched world offers the stability or receptiveness in which one can confide without hesitance.

Speaking of wretched...I saw the royal pain scrounging about near the dining hall today. He was heading down the passageway from it when he passed the open doorway of a spacious room often used by Carlaisle for his beloved impromptu sessions, one of which was presently underway. I observed from a significant distance behind him as his steps quickly idled and then drew him back to peer at the scene within.

Khloe sawed out a solid accompaniment, as always, but Carlaisle's accordion truly led the show, a lively reinterpretation of My Favorite Things. The notes churned out into the hall and echoed into the perfect evening ambiance.

And there he stood, spoiling it.

Her Royal Highness may be a summerwing that flits beyond my realm of control, but _he_ was now tromping squarely along its banks. I stormed forth, only my indignant heart outpacing me as I closed the gap between us. Before I reached him, however, the accordion's tones abruptly ceased, promptly followed by the cello's, and Carlaisle's voice reengaged the sudden silence.

"Well, hello!"

His salutation received nothing but that boorish, stoic nod in return. It suited me perfectly well enough: it was my turn to speak.

"If you've no business in this vicinity," I demanded, "kindly take your leave."

His more expressive blue eyes darted to meet mine, the whites around them assuring me that I'd caught him off guard. Only a blink and a second's hesitation followed before he silently complied. I replaced his position in the doorway, glaring after him as he employed a more determined gait out. I then turned to face my gaping friends.

Carlaisle's eyes stretched much wider than the boy's had, and his brow and jaw both lay at the bottom of their facial allotments. Evidently finding no answers in my residual scowl, he resolved to ask. "...What was _that_ all about?"

I proceeded to step into the room, my sights now set on the nearly full bottle occupying one of the empty seats near the couple. "We can't very well have dogs loitering about," I casually responded. "They'll just infest the place." My fingers curled around the bottle's narrowed neck, tilting the vessel for a better view of the coppery beverage within. "Tea?" I shifted my focus to Khloe, whose face remained suspended in comparable surprise for a few additional seconds before she launched into howling laughter. Mercy, did I previously describe her as elegant?

Carlaisle answered for her, "It's cider." He lowered his accordion a bit, his shock having morphed into mild irritation. "You are quite the enigma, Edwin. Of all the times for you to grow a snot-filled backbone." Khloe whinnied a new octave at that, nearly doubling herself completely out of her seat with the cello still in her grasp.

I retrieved a glazed cup from the stack we keep on reserve in the corner and poured myself a sampling of the cider. "What? We're not here to entertain the servants."

"You don't have to run them off when I'm trying to speak to them, either. And that was a royal guardsman, not a servant."

"Guards are nothing more than servants with swords."

His accordion blared out a collision of tones as he forced it together with a defeated sigh. "It doesn't matter anyway. He's already made his choice."

"Are we still playing?" Khloe chimed in, having finally recovered her breath.

"Yes, let's start from the top." He faced her but peered in my direction from the corner of his narrowed eye. "Edwin?"

I raised my cup. "I'll sit this one out." They began to play as I settled into the chair beside the cider, having found it a trifle bold but sufficiently agreeable. Between sips the notes soon faded to the tune of my mind's compositions.

 _A rumor, perhaps? As the princess' appointed knight, his position is one of a considerably high-profile nature. Were the king to arrive at even the very notion that their relationship had progressed beyond its professional boundaries, the boy's entire military career would be instantly cut asunder, in the very least. However, such a scenario would expose Her Highness to significant risk as well. At best her already helpless reputation could be forever and irrevocably tarnished in a much worse sense. No, that wouldn't do at all. There had to be another way, a better one. What if, perchance, one of them were to be somehow turned against the other...or simply enticed away? But how would that be achieved?_

"Edwin, dear," Khloe projected over the music as I began to pour my third refill, "you do realize that cider is spiked, right?"

I blinked into the cup. "Oh. Good."

Neither did Carlaisle miss a note. "Save us a little."

"Who made this? Hugh?"

"Me?" He wrinkled his nose. "Since when have you ever seen me make anything but music?"

"I said _Hugh_."

"I made it," Khloe asserted. "We were going to have a picnic lunch in the courtyard, but some wretch vandalized the rose bushes, and now it's crawling with guards. Not exactly a peaceful, romantic setting."

Carlaisle crunched to a halt. "Khloe..." She stopped too, frowning.

"What? If he hasn't figured it out by now, he'd have to be-" her words became overrun by belts of laughter. _My_ laughter. Whether that cider may have been taking hold, I'm uncertain, but there was a sudden, profound amusement in hearing of the commotion created by my own hand, inadvertently.

"Edwin..." Carlaisle could only stare for a few moments. "Are you...all right? Seems like you've been bouncing from the ceiling to the floor lately." He fell silent after that, waiting for me to settle down enough to respond, but as my own voice tapered, his attention was caught by another in the hall. "...Oh! The king!"

All eyes pinned the wall beyond the door despite there being nothing to see. The words that filtered in to us were hardly intelligible but unmistakably those of King Rhoam. One name I did discern, prompting me to rise and approach the hall, straining to hear more over Carlaisle's attempts to call me back. I paused in the doorway, where I didn't wait long for my impressions to be confirmed; he was searching for Zelda. The servants with whom he conversed knew nothing, per the norm, so I deemed it only proper to offer my own assistance.

"Your Majesty," I spoke as soon as the opportunity presented itself, bowing deeply as he turned, "if I may speak."

He returned a slow nod. "Please."

"Your Majesty, if you have not done so already I would suggest checking Her Highness' study. She has been conducting experiments there to supplement her recent research in the field."

"Research?" His eyes fixed on mine, suddenly intense. My breath hung in my chest. Was something amiss?

He said nothing more but strode off quickly, his steps heavy. I cast an apprehensive glance to the door behind me, perceiving similar concern in Carlaisle's and Khloe's faces.

And to think I'd assumed such details to be irrelevant.

The princess was about to bear the brunt of her father's wrath, for which I was solely responsible. The instant the king was clear of the hall, I, too, departed with all haste. There was nothing I could do to stop it, but I was determined to be there for her afterward, even if my role would consist of my begging her forgiveness. Again.

I lingered in one of the passageways adjoining the one that led to her room, ensuring I'd remain clear of the king upon the conclusion of his visit. Each minute that passed may as well have been ten eternities, each more unbearable than the last. When I finally dared to venture up, it required every ounce of my resolve just to keep my legs moving. Outside the final corridor, my hand gripped the door handle as if welded there. I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing deeply to clear the disastrous outcomes my mind had already fabricated, then gave the handle a sound yank and marched in. Hearing my steps muffle against the rug stretched beneath them offered a peculiar source of comfort. At last I reached the final flight of stairs, and no sooner than I'd taken the first step, the door at the top opened.

It.

Was.

The boy.

For a brief moment I stood suspended in place, my face flushed with newfound fury I had no intentions this time of concealing. Across the expanse of stairs, we made eye contact just after he'd shut the door, a full three seconds of gridlock as he began his descent before he elected to avert his somber gaze. I resumed climbing, as did the ire that threatened to boil from just beneath my skin, until finally it erupted the moment he set foot on the center landing.

"Don't you have enough sense not to go gallivanting to and from Her Royal Highness' private quarters like some kind of rat for everyone to see?!" I continued to ascend as I spoke until I also arrived at the landing, where the boy had drawn to a stop. With the better part of a foot's difference between us in height, allowing my words to rain down upon him like boiling oil felt almost surprisingly natural. "The princess has enough problems and worries on her plate to have to contend with your recklessly tarnishing her reputation! Your duty to her is out on the field, and when you're not out there you need to return to whatever hole you crawled out of until the next time she is ready to depart!" As it continued to gush out I gradually became aware that his formerly stoic eyes had begun to sear into me as he absorbed my words, and all at once a stroke of fear pierced my rage, stemming the cauldron's flow. In the next moment we continued to stare, in silence. I drew a tense breath and followed what seemed the next logical step - I turned and retreated down the steps and out of the corridor, returning to the home I had crawled out of as quickly as my legs would carry me without resorting to an outright sprint.

Leaning against the inside of my front door, I clutched my pounding chest, my face turning aside to a full length mirror on my left to behold the pale brown eyes of the court coward.

Forgive me, Princess.


	17. Deviations

**July 6th**

Yesterday was a quite fanciful cake  
that beckoned me ever subtly to take  
a bite out of its rich, chocolatey hue,  
only I came to tragically find  
it was a far less desirable kind  
of brown flavor that it contained in lieu.

And last night was the icing. With every toss and turn my thoughts volleyed again and again between them - the irate king and the poor princess and the suffering to which I had clumsily subjected her, and then those eyes, those piercing blue eyes from which I'd fled out of the stairwell. Over and over my mind portrayed how differently I could have handled it all, what a sniveling fool I continue to be. When sleep finally did take hold, it, too, relentlessly plagued me with their faces.

I woke sour, angry. At that moment, there was nothing I wanted more in the world than to get the better of that miserable knight. No solutions ever surfaced, however, only the same bouts of wishful thinking that had gotten me where I now festered.

It was yet early, but summer's heat had already rendered the bedroom stifling; I met a welcome relief as I stumbled downstairs, escaping the giant oven. My head throbbing, I sought to prepare a cup of cool safflina tea and found that there was barely enough. Afterward, during my morning bath, the last sliver of soap broke in two. Then I discovered a hole in the heel of one of my socks.

Kings and knights and princesses aside, it was time to do some shopping.

Ordinarily I can satisfy most of my grocery needs at the market right here in Castle Town, but these particular items warranted a trip to the more elaborate military exchange to the south. I honestly didn't feel much inclined to go anywhere, but I was merely torturing myself pacing about the house among my lingering regrets.

I left home an hour after sunrise, shielding my aching eyes from the golden beams that sprayed off every surface as the early risers scurried about their morning routines. At the royal stable, I found one of the hands brushing down my horse, a spotted gray gelding I'd named Ichabod after a character in my favorite book, The Legend of Tobio's Hollow. As he finished up I took it upon myself to check for Her Highness' white steed, which was absent. Already she had departed, to my heart's further despair. Again I cursed my cowardice as I set off...and him.

My journey brought me through Mabe Village and past the main garrison. Even though in all logic I was certain the boy was most likely on his way out of the region with the princess, I couldn't help but cast a nervous eye on everything that remotely resembled that blue tunic. Such irrational apprehension, and yet there was no defeating it, and the resulting frustration only further fueled my determination to even the score. Yes, I desired for him to suffer, to taste the same fear and humiliation, with no remedy at his disposal. But again no feasible ideas came.

A short distance beyond the garrison, the exchange bustled with military and civilian patrons alike. I detest having to weave and elbow my way through a crowd, particularly when I require something in the midst of it, but it would have only irritated me further to return home empty handed. I tied my horse and ventured in, ducking and darting to secure my wares of choice, the visage of a fearless soldier myself in those harried moments. At the last I became eighth in the queue to pay, behind which counter the clerk paused to speak to his young daughter, who cradled a large bundle of flyers in her arms.

"Stop at the garrison north of here along the way," he instructed her. "There's a message center inside the first big building that's open to the public. Just go in there and stick one of these in every single slot. The rest go to Mabe and Castle Town like usual."

Initially I paid the man's words little mind, my focus instead on the fact that he was prolonging my wait all the more. Rather than begin sighing and pawing the floor with my foot like some of the brutes ahead of me, however, I attempted to bemuse myself by studying the weapons mounted on the wall behind the clerk.

High noon was nearly upon me by the time I loaded Ichabod and mounted for the return home. We were trotting past the garrison once more when, for reasons I cannot explain, the man's words suddenly struck a chord within the recesses of my mind. My reigns drew west, and the horse faltered a bit at the unexpected change in course, a path we'd never before tread. My heart lodged in my throat as we neared the garrison's primary barrack, pounding between fear and exhilaration as I dismounted and joined the stream of persons heading inside. Beyond the quarterdeck, the first thing I saw was a relatively small room, the walls of which consisted of several rows of labeled panels, each bearing a wide slot. I walked in slowly, scanning the names. Only the soldiers' family names were given in full, but the first character of each given name was provided as well. My eyes pored over them as my brain begged to recall the one that I'd previously striven to blot out of my memory.

 _Tenk… Neen… Lee…._

I pressed my eyes shut, envisioning Zelda's dazed face that dreary afternoon.

" _We just got back from the Gerudo Desert last night_ ," she had said.

" _We?_ "

" _Link and I._ "

 _Link!_

My eyes flared open, searching again, my hand already fishing into the bag strapped across my opposite shoulder. Inside was my poetry journal, as I had retained the habit of keeping it on my person since the princess' last birthday. I proceeded to tear a page free, hissing unmentionables upon receiving another delightful papercut, then retrieved a pencil from a separate pouch on the bag's side.

Three individuals' names began with an L. Cambridge, Harper, and Stavez were their family names. As easy as it likely would have been to simply inquire of the sentry at the front desk, I had absolutely no desire to draw any attention to my presence in this place or give anyone any reason to remember my being here. I jotted the names down, slid the paper and pencil back into my bag, and headed out the door.

Upon my arrival home, I immediately trekked upstairs and plunged into this very seat, and three pages of this journal became orphans bound for a new cause. I dipped my pen into its reservoir and leaned in, allowing my first whim to compose a brief but ominous message, vague enough to be addressed to all three recipients:

YOUR DAYS HERE ARE NUMBERED.

I stared at the note, a frown settling in. Then a new idea began to spawn, one far more devious and elaborate. I wadded up the first page and penned a new message on the next:

A GIFT FOR YOU, FROM YOUR SECRET ADMIRER.

At that I pushed myself from the desk and sprang from my seat, hastening down the stairs into my kitchen, where I foraged through the pantry for a product that would suit my purpose. I soon identified the perfect candidate - a humble (and, more importantly, inexpensive) package of ramen noodles. Yes, I mused, three of these would do quite nicely.

I completed the remainder of the preparations upstairs, sacrificing a fourth clean sheet for the one that had been discarded in order to create two more notes, identical to the first. Each was included with a nest of noodles as I wrapped it in another layer of packaging paper, then carefully labeled it with one of the recipients' names just as it had appeared in the message center, followed by the words HYRULE GARRISON. Hopefully it would do.

Once all was made ready, I departed again straightaway, this time on a short jaunt to the local post office. The clerk there took no issue with the parcels, much to my relief.

"They can't receive packages at the garrison," he informed me, "but we'll send them a slip notifying them so that they can come pick it up here. Do you want signature confirmation?"

"Please," I replied through a wry smile.

And now I wait.


	18. The Key to Victory

**July 8th**

It is now Day 3 of Operation: Sink Link, and all appears to be proceeding according to plan. The intended target and his captive have not yet returned from their latest departure, but with the information I have managed to collect thus far I have already begun preparations for phase two of my master scheme.

Well now, it seems I'm not so unfit for the likes of the military after all! ...Ugh, I best end this jest before I cause myself to vomit across this journal. But self comparisons to uncivilized common wretches aside, I have indeed devised a systematic means of, shall I say, eradicating the factor known as Link from the equation that is my life, and all without my having to lift a finger in violence.

Yesterday I embarked on another, objective-oriented shopping trip to the military exchange. I brought along a significant portion of my rainy day savings, which was particularly appropriate considering the fact that it poured most of the way there, and invested it in the key to my precious princess' freedom - the one-of-a-kind, luminous stone-infused, triple-forked dagger that hung on the wall behind the payment counter. I also secured a handful of other items that shall in the very near future play vital roles in this mission as well.

Upon my return to Castle Town I paid another brief visit to the post office, this time to claim the signature slips of those who had retrieved my packages. As anticipated, there were only two. The first was signed Leyo Cambridge, and the other read Linsey Stavez. I nodded approvingly as I looked them over, having successfully narrowed down my range of attack.

And now, as of this moment I'm working on a simple map for our heinous hero, on which X marks the beginning of his new quest - to self-destruction.

Until next time, kiddies!


	19. Luminous

**July 9th**

Incompetence! I'm surrounded by incompetence!

Having witnessed Her Highness' return last night, I set phase two of the plan into motion this afternoon with yet another call on the post office. My first order of business transpired at the service counter, where I retrieved the last of the three signature confirmation slips. I peered down at it as I walked away, pausing upon the realization that the signature on this slip was not Link's at all, but that of a Jarren Harper. I stood blinking, flabbergasted, when the recollection dawned on me that there had in fact been two Harpers in the garrison message center. Two boxes, and the imbecilic excuse for a mailman had put the slip in the wrong one! And then these fools let him have the package!

"Because J and L look _so_ much alike," I sarcastically muttered as I whipped the slip down. I was positively livid, but I determined it would be unwise of me to complain, lest these buffoons be given a reason to remember my name or face. And their blunder was besides of minimal impact on the master plan as a whole, for my initial goal had already been achieved. The next item to be sent wrinkled in my grasp, a large envelope on which I was now particularly glad to have inscribed the boy's full name. Rather than hand it to that clerk, I deposited it into the outgoing bin, the method I shall be using from now on to best ensure I further disassociate myself from the whole affair.

Contained inside of that envelope is a simple cloth map I designed, which if followed will lead our golden boy to the first piece of bait - a completely harmless basket of delicious bananas hidden amongst a cluster of trees near Forest Park. If he tracks down and acquires it, I will proceed with phases three and four, which will also involve harmless and desirable gifts, essentially continuing to butter him up for the roast at the end of the trail. If he should decline or otherwise fail to participate, I suppose I'll be forced to resort to more drastic measures in order to accomplish my ultimate objective.

Ah, bittersweet suspense, how I reel in your midst!

* * *

And now I've once again suffered the fruits of my _own_ incompetence, mere hours after completing the previous portion of this entry. I was wandering about the eastern outskirts of town, plotting the location I'd likely be using for phase three, when I encountered Princess Zelda on her way to the cathedral. She was wearing a dress straight out of heaven itself, its delicate white folds singing in perfect harmony with the golden sheen of her swooping loftwing necklace and intricate ornamental bracers. Never had I been blessed with so pure and fitting a testament to her royalty and grace. She must have taken notice of my mesmerized gape, as her cheeks had donned a slight blush as she drew near.

"Well, Princess, good afternoon!" I could barely stammer, then trampled her own greeting with a bumbling afterthought, "Oh, I suppose it's already evening now, isn't it?"

She stopped before me with her hands clasped, returning a weak smile. "Yes. How have you been, Edwin?"

"Oh, well enough, keeping busy, but that's hardly important! How have _you_ been, and where could you possibly be off to in such remarkable attire, if I may ask?"

"I've been well, thank you. I'm heading to the cathedral to...conduct some spiritual training." She nodded polite acknowledgements to others passing by as she spoke, but it became increasingly apparent that she was straining in her efforts to maintain a pleasant demeanor. Whatever the reason, I was certain I wasn't serving to improve matters.

"Forgive me for hindering you. I'll let you be on your way."

She hesitated, her eyes cast upon the ground between us. "...Actually, if you're not busy at the moment, I would appreciate some company." Her hopeful gaze lifted to behold the wonder in mine at having stood corrected.

"N-no, not at all! I mean, I'm not busy at all! I'd be delighted to accompany you!"

"Thank you." She turned and led the way, her smile having received a hint of strength.

We were the only two souls to set foot in the cathedral that evening, its services being held on three other days of the week. Luminous stone sconces cast cold contours across the empty rows of masterfully carved pews as our steps echoed between them. At the forefront, a massive winged statue of Hylia stood with its hands forever joined before it. The princess approached until she reached the lush red rug just clear of the pews, then slowly sank until her knees nestled into it, her head bowed and her hands assuming similar form. In the silence, I carefully took my seat in the foremost pew on her left so as to not disturb her, but she began to speak after only a few seconds.

"How often do you come here?" A few more moments passed, and she glanced over her shoulder in my direction.

"...Are you speaking to me?" my question elicited a gentle laugh from her sweet voice.

"Yes."

"Oh, my apologies! I, ah," a crude echo resounded as I paused to clear my throat, "I don't ordinarily stop in here much." For as long as I can recollect I've always believed that this world and the intimate, encompassing profoundness of it were deliberately fashioned by a force far greater than the mere sum of its facets, but I've never been inclined to partake in the customs or rituals of the prevalent religion. I suppose I'm of the logic that if I were an omnipotent deity, I'd hardly find it appropriate to reside within a carved slab of stone, so I cannot very well expect it of an actual one. Unspoken introspections aside, though, I simply hoped I hadn't cast myself as an irreverent heathen to the heavenly being kneeling before me.

Her face turned forward once again, its expression too subtle to discern. "I've been coming here to pray like this since I was seven years old. My father has required it ever since my mother passed away."

I further cringed at her mention of the king, the nauseating memory of my recent interaction with him having flooded to the forefront. I'd since become so consumed with my quest to exact vengeance on the boy that I'd all but forgotten the grief I'd drawn upon her. She didn't appear aware that I had been responsible, however, so I determined it best to allow that water to continue under the bridge, forcing myself instead back into the moment at hand. "My condolences for your loss, Princess. I recall her funeral. It feels as though it was only a few years ago."

She nodded, her eyes open but distant. "I used to pray with every ounce of my being, here and at the Temple of Time and at two sacred springs, but now I just find myself going through the motions, more to appease my father than anything. That's why I asked you to accompany me. It helps to have someone to talk to, to help pass the time."

"I'm always very pleased to oblige, no matter the reason." It's true; I'd have sprawled myself on the floor to be the pillow for her knees if she had asked. "I'm glad we were able to become acquainted with each other like this, Princess."

"I am too," she agreed, glancing my way again. "You've been a good friend, Edwin. I miss our weekly lunches."

"Very much so!" I was actually referring to both of her statements rather than just the latter. Had she any inkling the lengths to which I'm endeavoring for her future's sake, she would in all likelihood despise me now...but thank me down the royal trail of her life. "To think it all spawned from the aspirations for a birthday song."

She had resumed feigning prayer, but a glorious smile now parted her lips. "Yes."

"Oh, speaking of which, Princess, I haven't yet heard of any celebratory plans for your birthday this year. Are there any particular intentions thus far?"

"It won't be anything special, not like last year. In fact, my father's really been on the warpath lately about my spiritual training, so it may even be postponed."

"Postponed? Whatever for?"

"I'll be turning seventeen this year...which means I will be of age to train at the Spring of Wisdom on Mount Lanayru. I'm sure he's anxious for me to go as soon as possible." Once again the semblance of joy had seeped from her, spurring an indignant huff on my part.

"I suppose it would be too much to ask that he show a shred of confidence in his own daughter. Or that anyone did, for that matter! I've heard firsthand how those petty excuses for guards speak of you around the castle. It's despicable." Master scheme or not, I relished any opportunity to sow seeds of doubt. "I wouldn't put too much faith in that knight of yours, either, Princess."

Her face faulted slightly. "Link has been very supportive."

"Of course he's bound to tell you what you want to hear, but you mustn't forget that he's one of _them_. He'll bite his thumb the instant your back is turned."

"I beg your pardon," her tone now cleft the sanctuary as she twisted about, "but I've spent a great deal of time with him over the past few months and have found him to be a man entirely worthy of the sword that has chosen him. He is kind and noble and loyal, and I'll not have anyone say anything less."

I swallowed hard. "I apologize, Princess. It wasn't my intention to upset you."

She again faced forward, this time gazing upon the towering Hylia. "...He's everything the hero is supposed to be...and here I am, ten years overdue and shirking my own training. It's no wonder I'm such a disappointment."

"H-how is it you see fit to defend him but will speak of yourself in such a manner? Preposterous! Is that what he's told you?!" In my outrage I failed to notice that I'd virtually contradicted myself, but it ceased to matter at that point.

"No!" her clear offense rang out. "He's one of the few people who _doesn't_ say it - but nobody has to! Just look at me!"

I could but stare in breathless silence. What did she think I beheld? Something other than every definition of brilliance?

Her lips parted as if to say more, but they merely hovered, quivered, and her head dropped. Tears dampened the corners of her closed eyes.

My seeds of doubt had sprouted thorns into her own image.

"Forgive me…!" I stumbled from the pew and over to her side, where I, too, dropped to my knees. My plethora of sentiments mustered but a few words, and almost no voice, "I'm just a stupid old fool blathering senseless ramblings. It dismays me to have caused you grief." I had utterly understated it; never in my life had I felt as wretched as I did in that moment. "Please forgive me once more."

For several moments, Zelda remained silent. Her eyes now fixated on the floor as she blinked several times, pensive. I lay a slipping grasp on the brink of tears myself when at last she spoke.

"You've no need to apologize, Edwin," she stated, her voice reflecting the newfound tranquility in her composure. "I'm just...frustrated."

"Because of me."

"No. This is something I've been dealing with for a long time, and the fault is entirely mine." She quickly added as I began to respond, "But I've decided I need to rededicate myself to my training. This is my duty as princess, and I need to give it my all."

I nodded, reluctant to ask. "Shall I leave you to focus on that?"

"Please." She pressed her face into her folded hands as I got to my feet, then turned to me once more. "Thank you, again, for your company."

"Of course. It's always an honor, Princess." I included a deep bow, that my countless blunders might tumble off my shoulders. It was no use; they dragged on my feet all the way out the door. The shrill fiddlings of crickets and an intense fuchsia sky greeted me as I emerged, but they did little to uplift my heavy heart, bowing under a tangle of emotions.

Of one distinct fact I was certain; the boy had gotten me _AGAIN_.

No matter. All the sweeter the morsels of triumph shall be when they tumble from the platter of vengeance served.


	20. Puzzling

**July 10th**

All right...in the interest of circumventing any jinxes that may or may not still be looming in close proximity to a certain unmentionable master scheme, I wish to record an ambiguously arbitrary update.

For no particular reason, I took it upon myself to stroll about Forest Park shortly after two o'clock this morning. I just so happened to be wandering past a certain cluster of trees when it occurred to me that the basket of bananas previously nestled between them was now absent. In its stead lay a wadded up cloth, which I discovered upon closer investigation to be a remarkably familiar map. I must say, it was certainly helpful of the undoubtedly kind, noble, and loyal individual who left it to provide confirmation of a particular phase's flawless completion - and amusingly idiotic of him to have disposed of the evidence. This fascinating episode has inspired me to enjoy an additional stroll after I awaken, this time through the bustling midst of Castle Town. Should an envelope perchance slip from my hand into the outgoing bin as I pass the post office, I suppose I'll have no choice but to ascribe blame to the boisterous winds for which Hyrule is famous.

And with that, I bid myself good night.

* * *

Wouldn't you know it, just as foretold! Precisely midway through my morning walk, it was as though an unseen hand wrenched my grasp from that envelope the vital instant the sun cast its shadow across that outgoing bin. In it fell! This must be what those star-crossed fortune tellers refer to as fate.

With phase three now officially underway, I hereby conclude all references to phase two and the events that threatened to taint it.

As for the latest mailing, inside it resides another challenge for our hero. Instead of another map, however, this time I opted to present him with a literary puzzle - a simple one. Intelligent is one of the few words with which the princess failed to describe him, after all. The message thereof:

CLIMB THE TREE NORTH OF THE HORSE ON TWO FEET.

Naturally, it refers to the granite statue rearing over Sanidin Park. Initially I had intended to use a location east of Castle Town, but following the unsettling evening at the cathedral, I desired to distance myself from the lingering residues of any negative energy. With bow in tow I ventured to the area just after dark last night, and at the base of the aforementioned tree I brandished a single arrow, around which a slip of paper was rolled and tied with a burlap string. It's been a few moons since I've brushed up on my archery, but my hand held steady as I drew back and launched the arrow into the thickest branch above. The tip embedded itself with a satisfying thud.

The slip of paper is a voucher I received from an acquaintance months ago, valid for one free entree at Candee's Cafe in Mabe Village. Obviously it's not the manner of establishment I would be inclined to patronize, but I retained the voucher with the intent to eventually re-gift it. Little did I realize I'd wind up with such an appropriate recipient! The boy had better make haste if it's to survive the weather and wildlife.

And now here I sit preparing phase four, sweat dripping polka dots onto the next anonymous note and these pages from my nose and brow, a complimentary token of what you could perhaps call my labor of love. Ha! Admittedly I am deriving an increasing amount of enjoyment from concocting these puzzles and awaiting their outcomes. After this one, a mere two phases remain - and then the real entertainment shall begin.

* * *

And now they've departed again. Drat. Drat drat DRAT! How am I supposed to skin his mangy hide when it's out roaming the countryside?!

Patience, Edwin. Patience is the virtue of victors. And one never knows; perhaps a stray moblin or the like will come along and...oh dear. I mustn't hope for something that could potentially put Her Highness in danger. Run along, moblins! I'll handle this.

Until next time, then, however many days from now that may be….

* * *

Make that hours. They've already returned. A mere jaunt to the exchange, perhaps? In any event, I'm elated that phase three can proceed after all. Late tonight I will revisit Sanidin Park and see if he's managed to figure it out. More to come soon, I earnestly hope.


	21. Back to Life

**July 11th**

All is on hold.

Things were progressing perfectly well, too, or so I presumed. I returned to Sanidin Park just after midnight, where the full moon cast a generous glow upon the now eerie forms towering around me. Squinting from horseback at the base of the northern tree, I could not discern any trace of my arrow. After circling it a few times I decided to dismount and search from an alternate angle to be certain, but no sooner than I'd taken two steps I felt something underfoot, withdrawing to find the fletching end of a broken shaft. The other end, from which the head was also broken, jutted diagonally from the earth a few inches away. I surmised that Ichabod must have stepped on it as I crouched and plucked it free, and by my lantern's additional light I then saw it - the note I had dropped in the outgoing bin that morning, pierced through.

A giddy grin still stretched across my face when I ambled in my front door, far too amused yet to even fathom turning in for the night. Judging by his rate of participation, the boy was evidently enjoying this little game as well...though certainly not as much as I. A mischievous chuckle escaped me as I seated myself at my desk, glancing over the note I had prepared for phase four.

LOOK DOWN AT THE MOAT SOUTH OF EVIL'S PEN.

Slightly more challenging, but presumably still obvious, this puzzle referred to the moat bridge south of Castle Town Prison. It's not at all far from my home; I had walked to the location earlier in the night to attempt to secure the prize, but there remained too many persons out and about, too many potential witnesses. But now it neared three o'clock, and I remained staunchly awake.

"No sense in wasting momentum," I convinced myself, swiping a small leather pouch and a length of twine from my desk on my way out the door. Upon the moat bridge, I briefly surveyed my surroundings, this time spotting no one. I began to tie one end of the twine around the cinched mouth of the pouch when the latter slipped from my fingers, tumbling with a heavy series of thumps across the stone floor. "Clumsy fool," I chided myself, quickly stooping to retrieve the bag and pulling it open to examine the contents for any breakage. Inside, a fist-sized opal rabbit stared back at me, having survived the fall without so much as a chip. I smirked at the irony of the gift, a symbol of good fortune for someone upon whom I wished nothing but devastation. Satisfied, I drew the bag shut and proceeded to finish tying on the twine, then fastened the other end around one of the merlons of the bridge's battlement ledge, leaving the pouch suspended along its side. One would have to peer over the ledge in order to see it, but knowing the bridge receives minimal traffic regardless, I was fairly certain no one else would disturb it.

Afterward I actually managed a respectable night's sleep, having determined it best to send off the note during the day. Not a moment I wasted once I arose, however. My trip to the post office preceded even breakfast, for today I would feast on the delectable gratification of observing my prey. The instant my fingers released the envelope into the outgoing bin, I pivoted about and cleft a straight path to the nearby market sector, where I treated myself to hot tea and one of my favorite pastries, known as a moblin claw.

Local mail deliveries have typically occurred by five o'clock, but ever since the postmaster employed the genius of hiring all Ritos for carriers, it's not been unusual for them to complete their routes by three. My having finished breakfast around noon meant I had at least a few hours to spare - and I knew precisely how I'd spend them.

Phase six.

I hadn't yet begun work on phase five, but that would surely be simple enough. The sixth and final phase, however, called for more elaborate preparations, some of which even necessitated research. My mission beckoned me straight into the depths of the castle, where I wandered each and every passage with my poetry journal in hand, jotting down elements of interest. At various areas along the way, one servant and a total of three guards inquired as to whether I was in need of assistance, to each of whom my response was the same.

"Just seeking inspiration."

It placated them without exception, as no one suspected a mere poet could be devising anything other than next week's royal digest. Within two hours I had gathered sufficient data for my purposes and then stationed myself atop one of the square towers of the western curtain wall, which proved the ideal point for my observation. Slipping a book out of my bag that I had acquired in the library, I kneeled beside a crenel and folded my arms upon it, now prepared to wile away the wait.

I'm uncertain how many additional hours transpired. At one point I roused from an unexpected nap, jerking my head up from my arms and peering down at the bridge to find, to my relief, that the pouch remained undisturbed. I was halfway through the book and had consumed two snacks when I began to ponder whether I'd made the puzzle too difficult for him. But, admittedly, the boy does have one trait to which I will attribute credit. He's never failed to show.

The sun hovered low in the sky, just beginning to graze the western landscape, when at last an approaching figure caught my eye. I blinked and squinted, clambering to my feet and leaning cautiously over the crenel. He undoubtedly bore a blue tunic...but was it _him_? His head turned as he neared the moat bridge, behind it whipping that eyesore of a ponytail in the gusty winds. I cracked a sneering grin, now positive. My fingers gripped the crenel as though talons, my eyes launching arrows right through him, if only they could. Once on the bridge, he located the pouch rather swiftly, drawing it up onto the ledge and loosing its twine bond. After a fleeting peek he reached in, his expression indistinguishable as he lifted the rabbit into proper view. Then came the wide-eyed realization. Yes, idiot. It's opal. By your standards, you're rich.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, you miserable wretch," I uttered quite audibly, far from any danger of his hearing. "Hmhmhmhmh-AAAH!" I lunged back against the battlement, having just turned to find Carlaisle standing directly behind me. My arms sprawled wide, attempting to gain enough traction on the stone surface to right myself as I heaved to catch my breath. "W-what are you doing all the way up here?!"

He stared for a moment longer, one gray eyebrow arched high. "I was just about to ask you the same question." He then directed his gaze past me, to the object of my disdain. "...Why do you hate him so much? Does he have something to do with your behavior lately, or is this just another symptom?" His eyes returned to mine as I straightened myself and brushed the dust off my back with both hands.

"What do you mean?"

He crossed his arms. "Don't insult my intelligence. I've known you to be a little uppity at times, but you've never carried on like this, not even toward Ganthe." The individual to whom he referred is a nobleman, in title only, with a well-deserved reputation for contention. The man relentlessly goes out of his way to somehow argue with everything everyone says, and I've likewise gone out of my way to avoid so much as crossing his path. But Carlaisle reserved a valid point; even two years of tolerating Ganthe had failed to produce as much animosity in me as the boy had in a few months. However, Ganthe had never lured away the epitome of everything my heart had come to deem precious. " _Something_ has been making you out of sorts for quite a while now, and I've been trying to refrain from prying, but at this point I am seriously concerned about you. I want to know what's going on."

For a few seconds I stood speechless, grimly aware that any truths I divulged would severely amplify my risk in the wake of my master scheme. "I...don't know what to tell you. Perhaps I've been a bit more stressed than I've realized." As I spoke I turned somewhat aside, glancing down at the boy as he strode back into the midst of town.

"What does Link have to do with it?"

At that I turned back to him quickly, surprised that he'd known his name. "Why would he have anything to do with it?"

"You were cursing him into eternity just a minute ago, and now you just looked at him again. Not to mention you ran him off like a dog that time in the castle, then got soused on our cider and-"

"I was not soused!"

"You've been acting strangely is my point! You've not been yourself for a while, and I want to know why. Is Link part of the problem or not?"

"You're the one who keeps insisting I have a problem! I don't have a problem!"

"Really." He glared for a moment, clearly unconvinced. "Then would you care to explain why you missed our collaboration meeting this afternoon with Hugh and Sabon?"

My mouth hung ajar and my eyes grew wide. "...That...that was today?"

"Yes, Edwin. We waited for you because we knew it wasn't like you to miss an appointment."

"Oh my word," the words barely filtered out as I slapped my hands over my face, then proceeded to rake my hair. "Did you get it rescheduled?"

"I asked, but they weren't too eager to oblige. Hugh is particularly annoyed about it. You know how he is about wasting time."

"Ugh...ugh! I can't believe I let that slip my mind!" How I ever more despised that cursed Link!

"Do you understand now why I'm concerned? After they left I looked all over for you, thinking something terrible might have happened to you. I checked your house and half the castle and finally climbed up onto the wall to see if I could spot you, and that's when I saw you all the way over here. Do you know how difficult it is for a sixty-four-year-old, two-hundred-and-eighty-five-pound man to climb one of these ladders? Twice?" He paused, perhaps expecting that I would respond, but I had resigned myself to sulking by this point. "I'm asking you as a friend, not just a colleague, to _please_ tell me what's going on. I just want to help."

That snapped me back to myself. "I don't need your help! There has been something troubling me, yes, but I've no desire to involve anyone else in it."

"Okay, if you prefer to handle things yourself, that's your prerogative, but considering how much this problem has already affected both of our careers, I think I at least deserve an explanation."

I hesitated, pondering what more to say. In that very moment spawned another tactical strategy:

 _Include him in the setup._

"...All right," I finally began. "I will tell you what's going on only if you _swear_ not to breathe a word of this to anyone."

"Of course, Edwin. You can speak to me in full confidence."

I drew a deep breath, nervously contemplating my words. "I have reason to believe that something dreadful is about to happen."

His brow furrowed. "You mean this Calamity thing we've been hearing about?"

"No. This matter concerns the princess and her appointed knight. As you know, recently I was privileged with the opportunity to accompany Her Highness once a week for lunch, before her duties rendered it impossible for her to continue doing so." He nodded, rubbing his chinstrap beard, so I continued, "Over the course of those meetings, she disclosed details to me of growing concerns she holds regarding the very individual who had been assigned to protect her."

"You mean her knight?" he inquired, to which I nodded. "Who is her knight?"

"Link! Link is her knight!"

"Link? Oh, so he does have something to do with it!"

I exhaled irritably. "Try to stay with me here if you would, please."

"Okay okay, I'm with you now. My apologies!"

"So as I was saying...the princess is concerned that her knight _Link_ is up to no good."

"W-well did she give any explanation as to why she feels that way?"

"She's refused to go into much detail, but I haven't any reason to distrust what she says. She hasn't spoken to the king about it because she fears it would be dangerous to do so. If this isn't handled precisely right, the results could be disastrous. I'm extremely concerned for her safety."

"Wow...that...that just doesn't sound like Link at all!"

I practically snorted. "How would you know?!"

"I worked with him pretty closely for almost a year back when he was still a child."

"Doing what?"

"Attempting to help prepare him for a career entirely different from the one he ultimately chose. He has a gift that could have secured him a life of luxury, but he wanted to be of more meaningful service to his country. He always cared very deeply about helping others."

"Yes, well, a few years and a sudden promotion can make a tremendous difference in a person," I asserted as I retrieved my book and nestled it back into my bag. "Remember, not a word of this to anyone, no matter what!"

"I still have a hard time believing it, but I promise, no one will ever hear it from me. Thank you, Edwin, for sharing this with me."

I nodded as I approached the ladder. "I need to be going. Please extend my apologies to Hugh and Sabon if you should see them again."

At last I escaped, making subtle haste down the ladder and through the maze of passageways to the one that would that would most efficiently lead me out of the castle. Along the way I caught sight of Her Highness in the round hall, about to exit through the door opposite what would be mine. I lifted a hand in greeting, prepared to exchange the usual formalities, but after glancing my direction she merely continued through the door, which had clasped shut by the time I arrived. I remained there for a moment, uncertain what had just transpired. I was fairly sure she had seen me. Perhaps she hadn't recognized me from that distance? Or was she deliberately avoiding me now? Once again my heart bore the weight of yet another point to ponder.

I've been mulling the entire situation over since I arrived home. Writing it down as I have usually serves to provide an element of relief, but today it's merely proving to compound my anxieties.

Frankly, Carlaisle was right. I've been allowing my frustrations and overwhelming desire to destroy Link detract from every other aspect of my life, however meager. Even the princess, once a dear friend, has undoubtedly come to question my worth of her time. The consequences of this fact I've been attributing to him, but the reality of the matter is that I've no one to fitly blame but myself.

As for the master scheme...whether or not I've nurtured its success or hurled it all into jeopardy remains to be seen. Whichever is the case, the safest course of action at this point is to take none at all. As stated at the summit of this mountain of an entry, all is on hold - all, that is, except what remains of my actual life. There's no benefit in vanquishing my opponent if I also defeat the purpose in the process, after all.

Time to saw the dust off the violin.


	22. Wishful Thinking

**July 19th**

Today has been a birthday I shan't soon forget, for a veritable medley of reasons. Funny, I suppose one can call it, how much can change in a year. I hadn't even deemed this day worth writing about last year, my focus first and foremost on my assignment for Her Highness' birthday. In all likelihood I would have omitted it again had it not been for her involvement this time around - the birthday of my dreams, perfectly ripe for the sickle of doom.

Since my previous entry I've employed diligent efforts to rectify the aspects of my life that have wilted on the sidelines of my obsessive neglect. My home seemed an appropriate place to begin, the hub of my musings and mischief that hadn't been graced with a thorough cleaning since I moved in. Following a two-day frenzy, its sparkle rivaled the sunlight as I stepped out on my way to engage my next task, on the opposite wing of town.

My shoulder leaned inches from Hugh's front door as I pounded upon it soundly with a tight fist. Moments later it crept slightly open, and around peeked the blinding glare of those enormous spectacles. I offered my best squinting smile.

"Good afternoo-" I cut the greeting short with a lunge of the elbow, catching the door as he attempted to slam it shut. "I realize you're angry," I grunted, wedging a knee into the gap, "and you have every reason to be," then a foot, "but I would appreciate in the very least the opportunity to apologize." A few more seconds of gridlock passed before he relented. I squeezed inside and pressed the door shut behind me. "Thank you." My lips parted to say more when I paused upon noting that he was covered from nearly the shoulders down in a powdery white substance. "...Have I...caught you at a bad time?"

He backed away with a pronounced scowl, then spun about, marching off into the kitchen with an arm bent before him and his nose tipped high. "Hmph!" I clenched my teeth as I followed, determined to overlook his melodramatic quirks.

The kitchen was a war-ravaged battlefield. In the far corner, a thin dusting of flour coated the entire length of a massive worktable, as well as every adjacent surface, and three sizable mounds surrounded a knotty lump of dough. Every other counter in the room was littered with precarious piles of cookware, cutting tools, used rags, numerous ingredients, and mostly soiled baking pans. I lingered in the doorway, absorbing the scene as Hugh returned to his work in progress, punching the dough with enough force to spawn hazy flour plumes.

After a brief observation I ventured to re-engage him. "It would appear you've been keeping busy."

"Always," he answered without looking up.

"Have you considered a career in baking instead of music?"

He stopped for a moment to glare at me twice - once with his eyes and again, simultaneously, with those irritating glasses. "Baking involves a lot more work for a lot less pay. And I wouldn't enjoy it anymore if I had to do it for a living."

"Fair enough." I coughed and cleared my throat in the increasingly dusty air. "I, ah, don't suppose you've crossed paths with Sabon since the day we were supposed to meet." The kingdom's chief music director, Sabon is a rigid and strictly business kind of man whose relentlessly demanding schedule well reflects it.

"Of course not," Hugh snapped, slugging the dough twice once more with renewed force before beginning to knead.

"I do apologize profusely for failing to show. It was inexcusable."

"Yes."

"I realize it was difficult for you to coordinate, especially considering the informal nature of the project."

"Yes."

"We were reluctant to bother him with it in the first place, but there's no doubt his contribution would yield an extraordinary difference. Do you suppose there's any possibility he would consent to another appointment?" I waited as Hugh continued to work the dough, only his exerted breaths stealing the silence. "...If there is any hope of persuading him, I cannot imagine a better candidate for the task than you." A morsel of flattery on the side never hurt.

He leaked a dragging grunt. "We'll see."

"You have my profound appreciation, Hugh. You truly do. Carlaisle and I will pool our resources to make it worth your efforts."

"Start by showing up - even if the new meeting is on short notice, because it probably will be."

"Understood. I will ensure it is my utmost priority." I supposed he might tack on some snappy remark, but he merely continued punching and kneading. "...How long do you have to work on that thing?"

"Twenty minutes."

"Oh my word. I'll leave you to that, then. My thanks to you again." I backed out of the kitchen with an amiable gesture and turned to leave when he barked suddenly.

"Wait!" He ceased kneading and wiped a layer of flour from both lens with the sleeves just below his shoulders. "Who's making your birthday cake?"

I blinked in surprise, having made my first realization of the date's proximity. "I...didn't have anything in mind just yet." By that I meant that I hadn't even planned an event of any kind at which to serve cake.

He returned a ridiculously long and loud sigh. "I have to do _everything_ around here! Tell Carlaisle I've got it covered!" With that, he resumed kneading. I've been acquainted with him long enough to know that he wasn't genuinely complaining but enacting another melodramatic performance.

"Well, I greatly appreciate that also, Hugh. I'll speak with Carlaisle about the arrangements."

"Yes, yes."

Stepping out his front door and pulling it shut behind me, I stood rather pleased with my accomplishments thus far as I brushed the flour residue off my clothes. House fully cleaned, social amends made, a new collaboration meeting on the fire, and now...now for lunch. I kept the walk home brisk, allowing myself no opportunities to idle lest my restless inclinations find a foothold. At my door I lifted the lid to my mailbox and slid out a small stack of envelopes and fliers. One was larger and more square shaped than the others, so I plucked it from the middle as I headed inside, then froze solid, my eyes flared wide.

It was from Princess Zelda.

Dread consumed my pounding heart. Whatever reason could she have to write me, especially after our words in the cathedral and the slight in the round hall? My legs recovering their strength, I hastened to the nearest table, allowing everything else to fall onto it, then held the wax-sealed key to my heart squarely in both hands. Sooner or later I'd have to open it. My fingers reached as if through mud for the envelope's gold-edged flap, slipping under it as my thumb pressed upon the loftwing crest seal, gently cracking it in two. Inside, a single card bore my name, along with a specified time and date. Oh! It was an invitation to her birthday celebration! I heaved a sigh of profound relief, holding the card flat against my chest for a moment, then began to actually read it. My relief soon morphed into confusion among the details. This...was an invitation to... _my_...birthday celebration?! In the lower righthand corner, the letters "RSVP" preceded two checkboxes, one for "ATTENDING" and the other "NOT ATTENDING," of which she had marked the former. I slowly lowered the card to my side, knowing precisely who had been responsible.

"CARLAISLE!"

The old coot turned from his conversation with Khloe in their rehearsal room, appearing none too surprised that I had approached him in this fashion. A smile spread between his beard as he lifted a hand in preemptive defense.

"I'm going to wager from the bloodthirsty look in your eye that you've heard from the princess," he stated rather casually as I stormed toward him, "but before you rip my head off for supper-"

"Your head won't be fit for a platter by the time I'm finished with it!" I growled through my teeth, stopping near enough to land a blow to his gut like Hugh's dough, though I somehow refrained. "Are you completely mad?! The princess is not some school child you can invite to no-count events for cake and board games!"

"Oh, cake! I forgot to ask Hugh about the cake."

"He said he's got it covered - but stop changing the subject! Ugh, I never dreamed you'd subject me to this manner of humiliation!"

"Oh, come now, Edwin," he protested, propping his hands on his hips. "You're not giving yourself enough credit! It's not like you're some vagrant who just crawled out of the woods. You and the princess shared lunches together every week for a while, didn't you?"

"Yes, but that doesn't make it appropriate to wave her over to my house as if I'm the prince of Hebra! I can only imagine her revulsion at the gall of that invitation."

"Did she accept or decline?"

"She accepted, but she had to have felt obligated under the circumstances."

"Nonsense! I'm sure she was pleased to accept. Now, listen, Khloe and I will be taking care of all the decorations and food, so the only thing you need to do is host." He turned to Khloe, who sat with her legs crossed and her hands resting overlapped atop one knee. "Please excuse us for just a moment, my dear," he addressed her, to which she nodded quietly, her cheeks mildly flushed and her lips in a pursed smile. He then grasped my arm and led me out into the hall. "Actually," his voice hushed, "there is a favor I want to ask of you. At some point I want you to see if you can pull the princess aside and speak with her. You need to find out what's really going on with that situation you told me about."

"What?" I hissed back. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

"I mean it doesn't sound right, doesn't add up. Link can make an unusual impression sometimes, but he's always been a good boy and very straightforward. I don't believe he's up to anything devious."

"Are you calling Her Highness a liar?"

"No, of course not! But I'm sure there has to be some mistake or misunderstanding involved. We need to find out why she feels the way she does."

"Absolutely not! It's not up for discussion and debate! The only mistake here is that you're too wrapped up in denial over her precious knight to accept the situation!" I pivoted on my heels and strode away lest he continue to dismantle my fabrication.

"Uh...see you at the party?" he called after me.

I kept going but raised a hand in acknowledgement. "Yes, yes."

That night I sat leaning over my desk, staring steadfastly at my journal as if in deliberation of what to record, but in truth my thoughts lay with the contents of the top lefthand drawer. After several moments I eased it open, exposing my partially prepared map for phase six, as well as the sheathed dagger. My fingers itched to return to the project like a child who craves chocolate after his first taste, but I adamantly forbade myself. No, this entire operation would remain off limits until, in the very least, I'd had the opportunity to begin restoring my relationship with Zelda. Sliding the drawer back shut, I instead reached for the case propped against the side of the desk, out of which I lifted and wiped down my violin. I stood and wandered to my bed as I began to play, reseating myself on the stage of my dreams.

The following week surged by a blur of preoccupation. Now aware of the princess' planned attendance, I poured extra diligence into ensuring every fiber of my property perched proudly at the royal standard. The interior of the house required little adjustment, having already undergone my scouring fury, so my focus naturally shifted outdoors, upon all those minor issues I had been intending to address. I touched up paint, repaired sills, hung pots of flowers, and even scrubbed the bird droppings from the base tier of the nearby fountain. When my tattered hands finally stopped, my house was the glowing pride of Castle Town, whether anyone noticed it or not.

One day remained to spare before the "big" event; weary of the home environment, I seized the opportunity to travel to the Hylia River, on the sandy bank of which I finished the book I had started reading on the castle wall and brainstormed potential lyrics for my private composition. On the ride home I opted to cut through the heart of the Applean Forest, much to Ichabod's delight. After he indulged to his belly's content, we were within a yard of emerging from the far end when a red bokoblin leapt out from the underbrush wielding a savage club, but he sprinted straight past it with the surefooted gait of a blue-blooded champion. The house was a decidedly welcome sight by the time I set foot back inside. I dragged my weary body upstairs and gladly tipped over onto the side of my bed. Several blissful minutes passed...and then _it_ returned. That peculiar craving, that overwhelming urge. Once again, I was dying to delve back into the phases of my master scheme.

It's not that I'm in this insatiable haste to destroy Link...although the sooner I can achieve that goal the better, as far as I'm concerned. But rather, this skin crawling inclination would appear to be stemming from a combination of the gratifying sense of control I gain each time I successfully lure him another step closer to the pitfall and, ultimately, the deeper sense of purpose it cultivates. This whole operation is my greatest service to the princess, after all, the importance of which my life has never before possessed. But, for the time being, it simply needed to wait.

 _Let's get this birthday nonsense out of the way, and then perhaps all will be in order again…._

What can I say? I'm a fool for my own wishful thinking.

Last year's celebration drifted among my thoughts as I dressed this morning. It was far from extraordinary, a fitting occasion for my far from extraordinary life. The first portion of the day unfolded just like any other, and then I met Carlaisle and Khloe that evening in Deya, where he treated me to my first experience with crab ravioli and she presented me with a melon-scented candle. Hugh joined us briefly as well, accompanied by a rather timid young lady whom I believe he was seeing at the time.

Today, however, felt as though I'd been served a slice out of someone else's life. A jester's. I'd scarcely gotten my hair combed when already a rapid series of thin ticks echoed from the front door. The pattern was unmistakably that of Hugh, "Ever the morning lark," I mumbled as I staggered to the door. As it swung wide I was greeted by an enormous three-tier cake, complete with piped purple borders and gold dragee accents...presumably with a person standing behind it.

"I heard there may be royalty attending," Hugh's voice floated around his masterpiece.

"You heard correctly." I remained too stunned to say anything else.

"This is extremely heavy, so if we could…."

"Oh!" I quickly slipped my hands under the platter for support and provided a crude backward lead to my meager dining table. It nearly didn't fit. I backed away a few steps and beheld its full glory, by far his best work. "Wow...I'd say you've outdone yourself, but that would be a tremendous understatement. Dare I ask how you got it here?"

He straightened his spectacles. "My cart's out back."

"Well, I certainly must thank you for your exceptional work. What flavor is it?"

"You'll see." He cracked a rare smile. "I'll be back at one," he added, taking two steps and then twisting suddenly to point threateningly at me. "Not a finger!"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

With that he poised a crooked arm before him and followed it out of my home. Sufficing with another brief inspection and inquisitive sniff, I set about preparing breakfast, uncertain where I'd be consuming it. I had just finished spreading my infamous mushroom lox concoction upon the first of three miniature rice patties when there came another knock at the door, much too audible and generic to be the likes of Hugh again. I opened to a young man gripping a large envelope, whom I recognized to be a servant from the castle.

"Good morning, Sir. You have an assignment from Domestic Affairs." He extended it at arm's length to me, which I tucked without hesitation under my elbow. "He said it should be self explanatory."

"Very well, thank you."

"Yes, Sir, have a good-" the last word bounced off the door as it clapped shut, and the packet immediately landed on the end table next to it. Those lox patties weren't going to eat themselves.

Stress is a curious beast. For some, it generates a voracious appetite that drives them to devour every edible within reach. For others, such as myself, it feigns normalcy until one is midway through a given meal, then lunges, cackling, with nausea clutched in one hand and indigestion in the other. Fearful of triggering something far worse, I exercised the precaution of tucking one patty into my icebox and discarding half of another, then shielded my eyes from the sugary fortress as I headed out of the kitchen back to the waiting packet.

It contained only two papers. Advancing a step beyond mere propaganda, my assignment this time pertained to a new, aggressive military enlistment campaign, promising pay bonuses and an impressive expanse of benefits to new recruits.

"Because we certainly cannot trust our pitiful princess to come through for us, now can we?" I muttered back to the indifferent sheets. Eager to distract myself from the anxieties simmering within, however, I promptly grabbed my poetry journal and retreated with it outside to the fountain's edge.

A while and two limericks later, my gaze lifted from the pages to the sight of Carlaisle and Khloe approaching arm in arm from the stables. I blinked and squinted, assuming I had perceived them incorrectly, as I'd always known Carlaisle to abhor even the slightest display of affection in public. It was no mirage, however, and I could go so far as to swear he was even smiling. It _was_ going to be a peculiar day.

He unlatched from her as they drew near, raising his hand in hearty greeting. "Well hello and happy birthday!" he bellowed as if I sat an acre away. Now there was the Carlaisle I knew.

"Happy birthday," Khloe echoed, her tone melodic.

"Greetings and thank you," I responded as I closed my journal and crept to my feet. Carlaisle snorted a chuckle.

"You're looking older already!"

"Hm. I've _been_ doing that. Here, come have a look at the cake Hugh brought."

"Hugh's already here?" they virtually asked in unison.

"No, he delivered it this morning." I led the way and shoved my door wide, allowing them to enter first. Their gasps soon filtered back.

"Oh my goodness!" Khloe exclaimed.

"What a cake!" Carlaisle stammered.

"Yes. Someone finally appreciates me around here!" I declared, to their breathless amusement. It really seemed to strike a chord with Carlaisle, who laughed until he choked.

"I'm sure...the princess...has nothing to do with it!" he retorted between coughs.

Khloe snatched a bag from his hand and pushed him back. "Don't cough all over it!" It merely caused him to laugh harder. "Go ahead and go get the rest of the food while I get started in here."

"Okay, okay," he panted, waddling out the door as she set the bag on my coffee table and rummaged through it.

"Let's...start with this." She pulled out a small tin canister and walked over to a long, narrow table set beside the staircase. "Is it all right if I move this?" she referred to a vase filled with fleet-lotus pods.

"I'll take it." I received it from her and set it next to where I'd laid my journal and assignment on the end table, then turned back to discover to my horror that she was sprinkling a rainbow of confetti. "W-what are you doing?! This is going to look like a child's party!"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," she giggled. "My son's grown and I still do this for him every year!" Next she pulled out a roll of gold crepe paper, followed by a roll of deep purple. "Now where did I put those tacks?" She dug around and finally turned the bag over, emptying it out onto the coffee table while I stood with my face in my hands. "Here they are!"

An abbreviated version of the distinctive tick-knock on the open door announced Hugh's second arrival, after which he quickly shuffled inside and straight past us into the kitchen, where he scanned his confectionary creation to ensure I hadn't so much as scraped it. Apparently satisfied, he returned to the living room, lenses gleaming.

"Hello again."

"You have to say it the first time to say it again," Khloe ribbed him.

Unphased, he continued, "I see you've arrived too late to decorate properly. As usual, I will save the day." He plucked the gold paper from Khloe's hand and shook several tacks into his mouth, quelling my hopes that he would support my opposition to the Humiliate Edwin theme. Securing one end of the streamer to the stairs' railing, he grunted and motioned for me to come over.

"It's his birthday!" Khloe snapped. "He's not to lift a finger!" Her remarks evoked the gleaming double glare, but he dared not attempt to speak.

Next returned Carlaisle, a covered platter in each hand. "Coming through!" He brushed between them to the confetti-coated long table, where he unloaded his silver cargo and lifted the domes to reveal an enticing arrangement of meats, cheeses, and crackers on one side and a colorful vegetable medley on the other. Now there was a detail I could appreciate. Nesting the domes under the table, he turned to face the door. "Okay, I'll have the punch now." Another servant from the castle then proceeded to enter, her arms wrapped around a sizable jug. He lifted it with one hand and propped it on the other. "Thank you, my dear. Edwin, do you have a suitable bowl for this?"

"I'll see what I've got." I closed the door with the girl's departure and slipped into the kitchen to rummage through my dishes. By the time I'd located an adequate one, I returned to find the decorating complete, its concerted effect rendering a surprisingly pleasing impact. "Well! I must say I'm impressed!"

Khloe offered a pursed-lip laugh. "You mean you doubted us?"

After passing Carlaisle the bowl and ladle I stepped back to further behold the scene, a smile gradually emerging, when another knock at the door jolted my every reflex. My heart beat furiously to pump the molasses now in my veins as I fought through my fears to the door. It opened to the face of my second worst nightmare - the scapegrace excuse for my next door neighbor Daelley. The man is in his late twenties, going on thirteen, the product of wealthy parents who bought him a house in order to purge him from theirs. He raised a hand in greeting with a nauseatingly broad grin.

"Hey! I saw a bunch of people coming and going from here, so I thought I'd, uh, make sure everything's okay!" What he actually meant was that he witnessed the arrival of food and took it upon himself to poke his intolerable nose in my affairs to discern how he could impose, as he always does. I'd never dignified one of his "visits" with a mention in this journal in the past, but this time he's qualified as the guest of dishonor.

"Rest assured everything's perfectly fine," I remarked, my smile long since dissolved, "just preparations for a _private_ event." I'd have applied a vastly more brusque response had there not been a house full of friends and a princess due at any moment. As feared, my subtlety fell on deaf ears and a hollow head as he unfortunately managed to see the festivities behind me.

"You're throwing a party? Awesome! Hey, I think my invitation got lost in the mail, huh huh huh!"

"Again, this is a-" I abruptly paused, having glanced past him and caught sight of Her Highness in the ceremonial dress she'd worn to the cathedral, yet in the distance but walking this direction. As persistent of a pest as he was, I knew I couldn't possibly be rid of him before she arrived, and I was dreadfully averse to her coming up on any kind of scene. "Here, come in," I muttered, gripping his arm and tugging him past me, after which I promptly shut the door. He sauntered in among the others, gleefully oblivious of the contrast between our collective class and his beach attire. "Everyone," I sighed the obligatory formality, "this is Mister Stettonaux, my next door neighbor. Mister Stettonaux, this is Mister Gentriand," I said of Carlaisle, "Missus Bledsoe," of Khloe, "and Mister Wenssum," of Hugh. The trio extended their polite salutations to him, which he drowned in a crude chuckle.

"You guys can call me Daelley, or Dael. So what's the occasion?"

Carlaisle answered, "Today is Mister Sweet's birthday."

"Oh, well hey, happy birthday!" He turned and slapped me soundly on the back. "How old are you now? Fifty?"

I double blinked. "Thirty four."

"Huh huh huh! All this time I thought - holy chuchu, check out that _cake_!" He marched straight over to it and stood gawking for a few moments. "Man...if you hadn't told me it was your birthday, I would've thought there was gonna be a wedding!" Everyone gaped as he then swiped off a generous dab of icing with his finger and stuck it in his mouth. "Mmm, sugar rush!"

I cast a nervous glance to Hugh, whose eyes had outgrown his lenses, and he'd begun to storm over with his teeth bared when Carlaisle pulled him back by his shirt.

"Let's remember our manners," he spoke to Hugh under his breath. Somehow Hugh stayed himself but tightly crossed his arms in a huff.

"So when we gonna get this party started?" Daelley prodded on his way out of the kitchen.

"We're awaiting the guest of honor," I replied quickly, lest he help himself to something else. Then, as if on cue, a gentle knock resounded through the door, and again my blood gelled. My very breaths trembled as I depressed the latch and eased the door wide.

The goddess had arrived.

She stood holding a small rectangular gift-wrapped box. I offered a deep bow with my greeting.

"Princess Zelda...thank you so much for honoring us with your presence. Do please come in."

"Thank you. Happy birthday, Edwin. This is for you."

I expressed my appreciation as I received the box, cradling it delicately in both hands. Her smile broadened as she stepped past me and glanced about the room. I could feel my face flushing, hoping desperately that she was not laughing on the inside. Carlaisle, Khloe, and Hugh bowed and welcomed her graciously, while Daelley hovered at the edge of the kitchen, his jaw on the floor.

I capped their exchange with the applicable formality. "Princess, I'm sure you remember Mister Gentriand and Mister Wenssum, and I believe you're acquainted with Missus Bledsoe. And…" I hesitated in a pang of dread upon noticing Daelley walking toward her, "my neighbor Mister Stettonaux came to inquire if he could be of assistance."

She turned to him. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Stettonaux." Everyone watched as he took not one but three short bows, and the room fell silent in our collective terror of what he would utter next.

"I am... _beyond_ happy to meet you, Your Majesty," he relayed, to my profound relief his only blunder thus far being the title with which he had referred to her.

"Your family name sounds familiar," she noted. "Stettonaux...Archery, in Necluda?"

He gave a thumbs up. "Yep, that's my dad's place."

"Then I'm pleased to say our families do a lot of business."

The others chimed in with their questions and comments, which blended to produce a remarkably pleasant atmosphere. I finally began to relax and participate in the chit-chat, and soon I even wandered to the long table for a sampling of punch. Khloe's voice buzzed in my ear as I lifted the ladle.

"That one's not spiked, so you can leave us some this time."

"Eh heh. Very funny."

After a moment she noticed me holding the princess' gift and elbowed Carlaisle in the ribs, who was standing behind her scarfing selections from the meat tray. "Hey, we need to give Edwin his gift."

"Oh!" He reached into his vest pocket and produced a long, narrow envelope. "Here you are."

I received it between two fingers. "Thank you both."

"Hey," Daelley called from the kitchen, "when we gonna cut this cake?"

"I'll cut it," Hugh insisted as he darted to its rescue. He had just picked up the serving spade when Khloe interjected.

"Wait, we need to sing Happy Birthday first!"

I cringed. "Oh, uh, that really isn't necessar-" my objections were lost to her lead, soon swamped in a sea of off-key voices. Hugh waved the spade in tempo. My humiliation complete, they all turned to witness the main event.

He began with the top tier, plunging the spade into its smooth, white surface, morsels of pale purple emerging with it.

"Whoa," Daelley blurted out. "Lavender?"

"It's wildberry flavor," Hugh announced, "between layers of sweet cream cheese."

"Oh, yum!" Khloe exclaimed from the rear.

The first piece was passed to me, the second to the princess, and the rest according to everyone's age, which ordered them to Carlaisle, Khloe, Hugh, and then Daelley. The texture was irresistibly soft and fluffy, and the taste simply divine. It was so incredible, I began to wonder if Hugh had feelings for the princess as well...but in all likelihood it was simply the product of his perfectionism.

"Thish cake ish amazhing!" Daelley declared through a mouthful.

"Yes," Her Highness agreed, "and beautifully decorated. Did you order it from the castle chef?"

"Mister Wenssum made it," Khloe asserted.

The princess' eyes widened as she turned to Hugh. "Have you considered applying for a chef position in the castle?" Her question received a gleam-glance coupled with a subtle smile.

"I prefer to remain a conductor, Your Highness."

Daelley scurried over. "Wait, so you made this? Man! You wanna come live with me? Huh huh huh!" He slapped Hugh on the back as he laughed, sending his spectacles flying into the side of my slice. "Oh, crap! Sorry about that! Huh huh huh!"

Panic instantly tainted Hugh's voice. "Where are they?"

"I've got them," I assured him. "Let me wipe them down." I set the plate down on the coffee table and plucked the glasses out, using a napkin to remove the icing as best I could. "Here." I deposited them into his waiting hand. "They probably need a more thorough cleaning." As he tended to them I brought my plate into the kitchen and raked the mutilated piece into the trash. There remained enough for a small army, after all.

While I was in there, Daelley just had to say more. "Man, you sure like your stuff big! Big glasses, big cake...you trying to compensate for something?"

" _I beg your par_ -" Hugh's words were stifled by a chunk of cake, shoveled into his mouth by Carlaisle.

I hastened back into the room. "Presents! Time to open the presents." Everyone gathered around as I sat and retrieved both from the coffee table. I opened the envelope first, inside of which was a gift voucher to Ohue's, the restaurant at which I had dined for my birthday last year.

"Since we didn't really give you a choice this time around," Carlaisle explained.

"Thank you, Carlaisle, and Khloe. I'll put it to use soon." And no, I'm not about to give it to Link.

Next I untied the ribbon around the princess' gift, tore off the paper, and lifted its lid, revealing a positively magnificent ink pen, its barrel engraved with an intricate mountainscape image and its nib fashioned of engraved gold. "Oh my word," I breathed, while everyone else voiced their compliments. I lifted it from its case and marveled at its impeccable design. "...This is the finest pen I've ever seen in my life!"

Her Highness elaborated, "It contains its own ink reservoir, so you never have to dip it."

I carefully replaced the pen in its case. "I...don't know if words can sufficiently express it...but I very truly and deeply thank you, Princess." I peered up at her, graced by her smile in return, but she quickly broke eye contact.

"You're very welcome. I'm sure you'll put it to good use."

"Hey," Khloe suddenly recalled, "has anybody found the star yet?"

"Oh dear," Carlaisle fretted over his plate of purple crumbs. "I'm afraid I haven't been paying attention."

Hugh snorted. "Trust me, you would have noticed if you'd come across it."

I turned to the princess, who I realized was not familiar with our twist on the birthday tradition. "Instead of placing the star-shaped cookie on top of the cake and then having me toss it for someone to catch, Mister Wenssum prefers to bake it into the cake itself for someone to find in his or her piece. He feels it's safer for everyone this way," I chuckled.

"Oh! So the wish goes to whoever happens to get the star, instead of everyone fighting and lunging for it!" She beamed with inspiration. "That's a wonderful idea! I'll have to tell the chefs in the castle about that!"

Carlaisle nodded. "Yes, it was a rather frightening sight at your birthday celebration last year, Your Highness. I swear I thought there were going to be teeth on the floor before it was over."

While the others shared a laugh I glared at him for having brought up that occasion, but he honestly couldn't be faulted. He had no inkling of the embarrassment that had transpired between the princess and me that evening. I'd even left before the star was thrown. The princess was relaying her account of the melee when I happened to glance past her at Daelley, who was standing by the end table reading my assignment papers.

"Hey!" I shouted without a thought. Everyone turned as I charged over and snatched them from his hands. "If you could kindly refrain from nosing into my work!"

His eyes were wide, not from fear or surprise, but with excitement. "Are they seriously gonna have a five-thousand-rupee sign-on bonus for people who join the military?! Man! That, like, makes _me_ almost wanna join! My dad hardly buys me anything anymore!"

"I can scarcely imagine," I muttered to myself as I collected my poetry journal and tucked the papers inside, when it dawned on me of my rude outburst. "Oh," I faced quickly toward Her Highness, whose gaze was particularly intense, "I apologize for the interruption, Princess."

She continued to stare for a moment. "...May I see that document, please?" She extended an eager hand as I pulled the assignment back out of my journal and handed it over. Carefully I observed her pore over the details, her expression gradually morphing from concern to seething outrage. The papers wrinkled in her hands in her efforts to contain it.

I glanced at the other guests, Carlaisle now in the kitchen helping himself to another slice of cake, Khloe spearing the remainder of her piece for any sign of a star, Hugh chasing each bite of a hearty radish with a swig from his cup of punch, and Daelley picking with his fingers through the cold cuts, then I leaned in and addressed Her Highness softly. "Is something the matter?"

She thrust the papers back into my hand, her eyes on the door. "I need some air," she said flatly as she strode directly to it. I scrambled to open it for her, and she silently proceeded out in the direction of the nearby fountain. I continued to watch for a moment as I crept the door shut.

"Oh," noted Carlaisle, emerging from the kitchen with a mountain of cake on his plate, "is the princess leaving already?"

"I believe she's just stepped out momentarily," I sufficed.

Khloe swallowed a bite of her now mutilated cake. "As long as we didn't scare her off or anything," she mumbled, never looking up.

"Edwin," Carlaisle's voice intensified, "perhaps you should go _talk_ to her." He eyed me pointedly in case I'd missed his allusion. I scowled and returned a sharp wave of the hand, but he refused to relent, instead closing the gap between us to the width of an overfilled plate. "It's a perfect opportunity," he grunted just above a whisper.

"Stop pressuring me to talk to her! I'm beginning to regret having told you anything!" I snapped back, to which he engaged what Khloe often refers to as his "puppy dog eyes" approach.

"I don't mean to put this on you, but it's really been bothering me."

I intensified my glower. "How do you think _I've_ been feeling?!"

"Of everyone here, you're by far her closest friend, Edwin, and whether she realizes it or not, she needs someone to provide her with support and insight."

I sighed. It's not that I didn't desire to speak with her; on the contrary, improving our relations was my life's my utmost concern. But she was clearly very angry, the angriest I'd seen her since the day she'd sneaked off on Link, and presumably left the house so she could be alone. Infringing on her wishes was furthest from my present intentions...yet Carlaisle once again had presented a persuasive point.

Then Khloe approached. "What's wrong? What are you two arguing about?" She fixed her focus on her bo, who reacted with a tense shrug.

"I told him he should go out and talk to the princess and make sure she's okay, but he'd rather stand around in here, coldly."

Her frown deepened as she turned to me. "Why did she go outside? Maybe you _should_ go check on her."

"Oh, all _right_ ," I conceded, jerking the door wide, "but if she gets angry, it's coming back on you two!" I paused to peer across the room at Hugh, who stood rigidly staring down Daelley's every move at the vegetable platter like a hawk ready to dive into its next victim. "...Make sure he doesn't kill that idiot, at least not on my rug." I shut the door soundly on my way out.

A stone's throw away, Princess Zelda sat dipping her hand into the fountain, lifting out stray leaves and flicking them onto the surrounding walkway. I approached with a ginger gait, as if my very steps could set her off.

"...Your Highness?" I dared not infringe another inch unless she indicated in some manner my presence was not unwelcome. Her face turned my way somewhat, just enough to behold me from the corner of her eye...behavior she'd never before exhibited toward me. "I apologize for disturbing you. I just wanted to ensure you were faring all right. Do you wish to be left alone?"

Her gaze returned to the toiling water. "No, you're fine. I'm the one who should apologize. I didn't mean to cause a scene." The tone in her words was noticeably off; something was still very much at the forefront of her mind.

"You've done no such thing," I asserted, then motioned to the fountain's edge beside her. "May I join you?" Again I saw her eyes venture only as far as the corners, even more briefly, after which she simply nodded. As I seated myself her legs pressed closer together and held fast. "...I take it the new recruitment campaign is troubling you?" She drew a breath but said nothing, so I continued, "One can hardly expect a horde of brutes to believe that you would come through for them."

"It isn't that. They would have sought to recruit additional troops either way, but I can't believe that after they waited all this time, all these months, they're suddenly in such a big hurry now that they can't even wait a week when I ask them to."

"You had asked them to delay the recruitment campaign?"

"They planned on making cuts to three resources in order to free up funding for that sign-on bonus and the other new benefits. I, myself, don't know much about the military's setup and what needs to go where, but I mentioned it to Link, and he made some very good firsthand points about how these changes are going to indirectly affect the existing troops that, that you don't see on paper, you know, and he suggested some alternatives I wanted them to discuss with the chief commander when he returns from Akkala. But why would they listen to a useless princess who couldn't possibly know what she's talking about? Just go ahead and put the campaign through behind her back! It's not like she matters!" By now she was waving her arms to emphasize each element of offense and her voice flickered with the fire behind it.

"I'm very sorry, Princess. I'd endeavor to change it if I could but fear they wouldn't perceive any value in what I'd have to say, either."

"The only person they'd listen to at this point is my father, but if I went to him he'd just say 'You need to focus on your training!' I haven't even spoken to him since I got back. I don't even want to."

The mild rumble of cascading water filled the silence between us after that. My heart desperately ached to wrap my arms around her, assuring her that all would be well. My soul yearned to bare its depths, as it does in these pages, before hers. I gazed absently upon a golden sparrow perched at the edge of my windowsill, its head tilting and and bobbing this way and that, when in all of a moment it flittered on its tiny wings away through the summer sky.

She straightened and pushed herself from the fountain to her feet, dusting her bottom with one hand and straightening the belt of her dress with the other. "I have to go to the cathedral for training, but I'll go say goodbye to everyone first." Again her eyes met mine only to flee as she spoke. "Thank you for letting me vent, Edwin. I appreciate your friendship."

"Of course," I replied, jumping up quickly to follow at her having already started toward the house. "I'm always here for you, for any reason." I paced ahead at the door to shove it open for her, and as she passed through my hand instinctively fell to the small of her back, as it had on occasion in the past. This time she flinched, however, arching her back to pull away as she hastened inside. A dreadful sentiment then skewered me.

 _She knows how I feel about her._

Had she indeed figured it out? Was it something I'd said? The way I'd said it? Or the fact that I more or less crawled on my knees to her in the cathedral that day? But the whether and why of it bore no significance now. However aware she now was of my romantic inclinations...she obviously wanted nothing of the sort.

I watched her lips move as she addressed everyone with her parting formalities, my refractured heart too numb to hear any of it. Finally I blinked and looked up as Carlaisle lifted a hand.

"Before you leave, Your Highness, and while I have everyone's attention, Khloe and I have a special announcement we'd like to make." He extended a beckoning elbow to Khloe, who curled her hand around it and closely joined his side. "Would you like to say it?" he asked her.

"No, you go ahead," she answered through a blushing simper.

"Khloe and I...are engaged to be married," he finished, to a chorus of congratulations. I felt as though I'd now been slugged in the gut as well, but I summoned the will to force a smile.

"Wait," Daelley called from beside my full-length mirror into which he'd been flexing muscles, "I thought you guys said she was 'Missus' so-and-so."

"That's my widowed name," Khloe explained.

"Ohhhhhh! Okay, I've got it! I'm there now!"

"Your Highness?" Hugh spoke up next. "Would you like to take some cake with you? There's a lot left."

The princess broke into a receptive smile. "I will take a piece, thank you." She turned to me as he darted into the kitchen. "Thank you again for inviting me, Edwin. I had a lovely time."

I bowed, digging my nails into my hands lest the tears surface. "The pleasure and honor were all ours, Princess."

"Here you are," Hugh panted, scurrying out with nearly the entire second tier of the cake in one of my largest cooking pots. She received it with wide eyes.

"Oh my."

His spectacles beamed with him. "You can share some with the king."

"Well," she giggled, "I think my father has been indulging in a little too much cake lately, but I have a friend who should enjoy this. Thank you."

The hairs bristled at the nape of my neck. _If Link winds up with my star, so help me Hylia, Calamity Ganon is going to show up and find nothing left to destroy!_

Outside, the princess twisted to wave once more as we all saw her off, and then Khloe clapped her hands together with a fresh wave of vigor. "Okay, dominoes or Charades?"

"I don't know," I sighed. "I'm a bit tired. The rest of you can if you wish."

Carlaisle grabbed my arm. "Hang on. You guys go inside. I need to talk to Edwin for a minute." The instant the door clasped behind them, he leaned in eagerly. "So what'd she say? Did she talk about him?"

At first I glared, but then I ran with it. "As a matter of fact, she did," I remarked. "She's spoken with the chief commander about him, who will investigate the matter as soon as he returns from Akkala."

"The chief commander! W-what did she tell him? What's he going to do?"

"How should I know? It's being handled by the chain of command now, so there's nothing more to do but wait and see. Now stop asking me about it!" At that I proceeded to head inside, where Hugh worked to divide the remains of the cake into four portions and Khloe sat on the sofa politely listening as Daelley rambled between bites at the meat tray.

"Yeah," he blathered on, "he was out there painting and hammering and hanging flowers and even cleaning the fountain! I was gonna go out there and talk to him, but I was afraid he'd put me to work! Huh huh huh!" He switched gears once Carlaisle and I were back in the room. "Oh man, I can't believe you guys got the _princess_ all up in here! Wow! Watching her royal hiney is enough to make a guy moist in the nether-region!"

My fists tightened. "Thank you, Mister Stettonaux, for stopping in. Now if you'll-"

"You know that guy who always follows her when she rides out? Could you imagine being _paid_ to follow that? Holy chuchu!"

" _Thank you_ , Mister Stettonaux."

"I'd be all, like, here, lemme help you off that horse. Here's something else you can ride!"

At this point I stood gaping in disbelief, my arms limp at my sides. Carlaisle had taken a seat next to Khloe, whose flushed face lay buried in her hands as she shook with nearly voiceless laughter. Rubbing his beard, he leaned back and crossed an ankle over his knee.

"That's...quite a picture you've painted there, lad."

"Huh huh huh huh huh! I'd, like, take her to my secret cave to do some spelunk-"

"SHUT UP!"

At last he took the hint. His frozen form stared wide eyed, mouth ajar, like a rat at the hooves of a ravening lynel. The others likewise had all turned and fixated on my fury, speechless as I stormed around the sofa to center stage. "We have attempted to stanch your filthy, uninvited mouth with every manner of civility at our disposal," I growled in Daelley's face, "but it's become clear that subtlety and decency are wasted concepts with you! You've left me no choice but to resort to addressing you on your level. Get out of my house right now, before I resort to savagery! "

He raised both hands defensively. "B-but I-I was, I was just-!" He was still stammering and I was still working up the nerve to actually grab him by the shabby collar and throw him out when I felt a rapid double-tick tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Hugh with his sleeves rolled up and his fists on his hips.

"Allow me."

I sidled clear, and within a glass-gleaming instant he had two hands clenched in Daelley's mess of hair and was already towing him yelping to the door. "Yeowie-owie-owie-owie, leggo, yow, it hurts!" The fact that Hugh barely measures four feet and eight inches tall while Daelley is at least a lanky six made the scene considerably more entertaining. I flinched as his face "accidentally" struck the edge of the doorway while being shown out. The last of him I saw was him lying on the ground nursing his nose when the door slammed shut. Hugh dusted his hands and nudged his spectacles a bit higher on his nose as Carlaisle launched into mock applause.

"Marvelous show!" Carlaisle commended. "Now this is what I call a party!"

Hugh took a bow. "You're welcome."

"Ugh." I rubbed my temples, the day's stresses having taken their toll. "I apologize that you had to see and hear all that."

Carlaisle chuckled. "If you can't beat your neighbors up in front of your friends, well, who can you beat them up in front of?"

Khloe finally slid her hands off her face into her lap. "Now that that's out of the way...Charades or dominoes?" She glanced about as everyone stared. "What?"

"I think perhaps Edwin has had enough excitement for one day," Carlaisle mused, to her disappointed pout.

"I would prefer to wrap things up here, yes," I agreed, "but perhaps we can all meet at Ohue's sometime this weekend."

"Oh, that would be lovely." The notion seemed to rejuvenate her spirits, of which I was glad. At least I had finally made _someone_ happy.

"Well then," Carlaisle groaned to his feet, "let's get this mess rounded up."

Khloe again insisted that I touch nothing, but the decor teardown process proved rapid nevertheless. Everyone received some of the remaining meat and vegetables and a sizable portion of the leftover cake to take home, mine being by far the largest. Minutes after they all departed, I straggled upstairs and, with my treasured new pen, began to write in this journal. It's been five days since then. Granted, I have completed my recruitment campaign assignment and tended to a few other chores in the meantime, but the sheer number of pages I've filled recording this occasion is itself a testament to the time and energy devoted therein. Now I sit here rambling about my rambling...anything but allow it to draw to a close. Alas, at some point it must, and when it inevitably does, all that will remain is to face the bleak reality festering within the crumbling castle of my heart.

I didn't realize it possible for her to break it twice. That is, I've already stood agonizingly aware of her affections for another...but I suppose the inexplicit nature of our own relationship had somehow preserved a faint glimmer of hope that, someday, she would come to feel something more for me. I suspect it contributed to the obsessive motivation behind my master scheme as well, as if removing Link from her life would trigger that effect. I see now that I've cast myself the fool once again in even perceiving that a possibility. If he were to drop dead right now, I'd still never be any closer to acquiring her heart than the spider in the corner of her window. Such is my lot.

Yet, my duty to her remains. Though my own glimmer of hope has been snuffed out, there is a man out there infinitely more qualified, appropriate, and deserving of her than the likes of that boy, and I adamantly intend to see to it that her extraordinary potential does not go to waste. Tonight I will begin work again on phases five and six. As of right now I believe they are again away tending to her neverending responsibilities, but my final piece of unpoisoned bait will be awaiting him upon their return. It's time to finish this.

Well, well, guess what just turned up. For the past five days I've been nibbling with a minimal appetite on the remnants of leftovers from the get-together, and just a few minutes ago I brought a piece of cake up here to ease the restless acid in my stomach while I completed this entry. I sank my fork into the edge of it but encountered a peculiar resistance in the center, so I raked away the rest, and lo and behold, there was the star, burning bright red in the soft purple sky. Its texture, ordinarily crisp, had softened within the cake to that of raw dough. Having never before been the star recipient, I'm looking forward to tasting it - but first things first.

Rather than wish for the impossible, I'll instead render it backup for the objective of my life's sole source of worth.

I wish to see Link go down.


	23. Torn

**July 26th**

I don't know. I just don't know. Last night I achieved significant progress on the map for phase six despite my misery, but across several restless hours of tossing upon a bed of broken dreams I have helplessly witnessed the degradation of my soul into a grayscale kaleidoscope, ever shifting and out of focus. My motivation to continue with the project now escapes me as if a crusty kettle's vapor. I can do naught at this point but stare - at the map, at my new pen, at my old pen, at my desk, at the dagger, at my hopelessness - and ramble once again in this journal. Of a surety most of it can be attributed to my festering depression, but now I find myself plagued with a new source of turmoil...a sense of guilt, as if I'm somehow casting myself the villain with my efforts rather than fulfilling my duty to rescue the princess from the true threat. My master plan was intended all along to destroy the boy's present way of life; why does it tax my conscience now? Is it because the pain I'm now experiencing is too unbearable to contemplate inflicting upon another? Whether I follow through or I don't, someone will tremendously suffer. Between the likes of him and the princess, the choice is blatantly obvious...and yet I remain torn. Trapped, even. The more I attempt to mull it over, the more I find myself flailing upon the threshold of utter madness.

Where's that Calamity Ganon when you need him?


	24. Moments Passed

**July 27th**

Shining, twinkling atop a summit far,  
I mistook her at first for a great star  
until her warmth blessed my desolate soul  
that it surged to life, emerged from its hole,  
soaring forth that it might bask by her side,  
but I was too late; my hope was denied,  
forevermore touched, yet never to know  
the stolen heart of her radiant glow.  
Tears stream cold trails across my ashen cheeks  
like rain down the foothills of Dueling Peaks.  
My hand lies listless, still gripping its lot,  
helpless to do any more now than jot  
these futile words, echoes of moments passed  
as I await with each cruel breath my last.


	25. Down in Deya

**July 31st**

Egad...it's scarcely clear the extent of one's own grief-induced intellectual impairment until he proceeds to review the rubbish he produced and evidently deemed poetry days ago. I suppose third-rate refuse is doomed to be my legacy.

On a comparable note, today I set foot outside my home for the second of two times since my birthday, though the first can hardly be counted since it pertained to the obligations of routine business in the castle, during the course of the former I encountered Carlaisle and Khloe, who had discussed our plans to return to Ohue's in Deya for my post-celebration dinner and informed me that the event would be postponed until the following weekend, due to inclement weather. Whatever, I was glad of it...and there's a subtle comfort in doing nothing but listlessly observing the elements when they are even more miserable than you. But the days slipped by once again until the new arrangements mandated my emergence. It was all I could manage to begin the dreaded trip this morning, my face pressed into Ichabod's saddle as I mustered the will to pull myself up. He kept turning to glance back at me, confused by the delay. Eventually we set off and arrived at the Mabe ranch, the designated meeting point from which Carlaisle, Khloe, Hugh, and I all traveled together the remainder of the journey. I gladly trailed in the rear, letting Ichabod do the steering while I wandered a world away.

Deya Village has, for as long as I can remember, held a well-deserved reputation as a hub of enchantment upon the lake. "Do a Day in Deya" is its tourism motto, which, if you're visiting from anywhere near Hyrule Castle Town, is a practical necessity, as it requires nearly half a day just to reach it. The hollow remains of a fallen colossal tree serve as a tunnel passage from the road into town, and the whimsical experience only grows from there, as the townsfolk make a point of embellishing everything from their homes to their businesses to their livestock with a quirky flair. In like fashion, several unique aquatic performances are offered at the lake throughout the summer. I've a number of fond memories from my previous visits, and I must admit the change in scenery today somewhat drew my focus from, as of late, the dreary norm. For but a moment here and there as I walked this wonderland, my life ceased to be an inescapable nightmare.

In contrast, our meal at Ohue's proved largely forgettable at the first. I'm afraid I've nary an inclination to include much in the way of details or dialogue except to say Khloe's mouth only ceased to make noise when she was eating. Wedding this, reception that, she blathered, to Carlaisle's increasing unease, while Hugh sat with his arms crossed, drumming his fingers on his arm. I sat in silence, nudging my pasta about my plate with my fork as I attempted to convince myself to force another bite down. In a separate sense, Hugh had reached his fill as well.

"If you're _quite_ finished," he clipped, "I have a surprise for everyone, which just came in the door."

Carlaisle and Khloe twisted in their seats to look while Hugh raised a hand to hail his guest's attention. Even I glanced up. We were surprised indeed to see the rigid figure of Sabon standing just inside the restaurant's main entrance. He glared at everyone and everything in the establishment at once, taking only moments to catch Hugh's gesture and storming over as if intending to destroy us - but that was merely his manner of style. He jarred an empty chair from the table and landed squarely in it, his eyes falling on Hugh expectantly, who seized the cue. "Thank you for coming, Mister Turste."

Carlaisle cleared his throat. "Yes indeed, what a pleasant surprise! We certainly do appreciate your meeting with us again. I'd like you to meet my fiance Missus Bledsoe. And, Khloe, I'm sure you've seen Mister Turste at many of our concerts."

"Yes," she chimed in, "it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

"Yes, yes, yes," Sabon followed abruptly, "we can meet and greet and make small talk about the weather, but I'd just as soon get down to business." He slapped a small stack of papers on the table as the others chirped their apologies. "Here, I took the opportunity to prepare a draft composition for your project. We can review and rehearse at the local pavillion when you are finished here."

"But none of us brought our instruments!" Carlaisle stammered.

"I brought mine. Now kindly stop talking and eat so we can get this show on the road."

I skimmed through the music while the others hastened to finish their meals. Ordinarily I'd have been elated to behold a tangible aspect of our collaboration, but my heart remained far too heavy to be lifted by elements of recreational interest. I dared not spoil it for the others once again, however.

"Thank you, Mister Turste." My eyes lifted from the pages to find him staring flatly.

"Why aren't you eating?"

"I...I'm finished."

"You've barely eaten a thing," Carlaisle began to note, quickly ducking down to shovel in another mouthful as Sabon's head whipped his direction. It was the last word out of any of us until we reached the pavillion.

Far more than a music director, Sabon is a supremely talented man, a superlative capable of playing every kind of instrument ever created, and I'm convinced he owns at least one of each. My chin bobbed upon the base of his violin, failing to achieve a comfortable position, while Carlaisle likewise fumbled with an unfamiliar accordion. Thankfully the objective of this meeting was primarily to learn specific compositional techniques rather than to strictly play. Khloe and Hugh sat across from us observing intently, whispering amongst themselves as Sabon stood in the gap singling out segments of his draft for us to perform, then lectured on their key points. The longer the lessons droned on, the further my heart drifted from its dedication, having failed to embrace the cause. It must have grown increasingly obvious, as Carlaisle cast a decidedly concerned glance my way more than once. I ignored him, forcing myself to continue until Sabon suddenly slammed down an instrument case as I attempted to play, causing everyone to jump.

"If you're not going to commit yourself," he hissed at me, "why are you wasting my time, space, and air?"

"I...apologize," the words were still on my lips when he jerked the violin from my hand. I promptly surrendered the bow as well.

He nestled the instrument under his chin. "Take a seat over there." Then he turned to Carlaisle. "You too." The command met a fleeting gape, followed by hasty compliance. Carlaisle sat beside a deeply frowning Khloe, while I shuffled to the row of seats behind them. "Now," Sabon resumed, "I'm going to play The Rains of Akkala, and I want you to listen closely to the variations I'm going to implement."

The notes sliced out delicately, beautifully.

Her favorite song.

The raindrops became a torrential downpour in which my heart floundered, the water relentlessly rising until it finally spilled from my eyes. I wiped them quickly, blinking and looking up to see Sabon's stern gaze on me, though he continued without missing a stroke. When he finished, he ended the session. Everyone thanked him politely, and in typical fashion, he wasted no time assembling his possessions and making his departure. And that was that.

An awkward silence lingered between the four of us as we left the pavillion, likely stemming from their collective sympathy toward my embarrassment. We had nearly reached the inn when Khloe's voice barely rose above the chorus of frogs and crickets.

"...I was hoping to see the water puppet show tonight," she lamented mostly to Carlaisle, who rubbed his beard.

"Well, we could stay and catch it tomorrow night," he suggested.

"Oh, that would be lovely! Let's please do that!" She embraced his side, but he immediately pushed her away.

"Okay, okay. That'll do."

She turned to Hugh and me. "Would you two like to stay another day and join us?"

Hugh adjusted his spectacles, successfully sharing the sunset. "I haven't got time for puppets. I need to get going."

"Wait," Carlaisle fretted, "you're not heading back _now_ , are you?"

"Just to Outpost. The inn's a lot cheaper there."

Khloe peered at me. "Edwin..?" I sighed inwardly as they all did, at the concern and pity that accumulated in their expressions.

"I appreciate the offer, but I really wish to head out in the morning." I sounded more like a bored child reciting a mathematical formula, but little mattered to me at this point. It had been an extremely long day, and the depression was bearing down full scale. "Thank you, everyone, for the birthday outing. I apologize that I haven't harbored the best of moods."

"Ohh," her voice wavered, and she suddenly threw her arms out, exclaiming, "group hug!" I was spared only the chance to gasp before I was subjected to the constriction of her embrace, after a moment of which she looked up. "Come on, you guys!" Next followed Carlaisle's reluctant but nevertheless crushing force, then a brief pat on the back from Hugh.

"Ugh," I grunted when the ordeal was complete. "We could have done without that."

"Yes," Hugh agreed, "enough fiddle-faddle!" He pointed an elbow before him and followed its lead toward the stable. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a sunset to ride off into!"

We all bid him good night, the remaining three of us trudging into the inn. As I made my way down the corridor to my room, I heard Khloe calling after me. "Good night, Dear. Let us know if you change your mind!" I returned no answer but merely slipped into my door and shut it gently behind me.

At last I had gotten away...and now I stared into the dimly lit silence. Eventually I seated myself on the tiny bed, its mattress as stiff as a board, where I've been reflecting on the day's events and writing in this journal since.

Sabon's words continue to claw at my soul, their sentiment ringing all too true. Anymore I'm just a waste of others' time, space, and air. My life fails to serve a purpose, my existence to hold value...and yet the solution escapes me. I don't know what to do.

Hylia...or whoever you are, wherever you are...if you can hear me, please send me a sign. Show me the way, so that I may do what's truly best.

Or just let me die.


	26. A Throne of Nothing

**August 1st**

It's a quarter past two in the morning...and I've just awakened from a terrible nightmare. No, it was more than that...worse than that. It felt more like a vision of the imminent future of Hyrule. The prayer I recorded just hours ago, I'm certain now that this was my answer...my warning. My hand is trembling so much that I can barely write, but I must record these details with utmost haste.

I was standing near the castle, gazing into the vicinity of Forest Park on a beautiful day, when all at once I became aware that the park fountain was in a state of horrible disrepair, its entire surface cracked and crumbling and its basins bone dry. I turned around and was aghast to discover that the castle, too, had suffered a similar fate. Massive portions of otherwise sound stone walls were gouged from the walls and towers, as if an unthinkably massive monster had come and rendered bite after heaping bite. The trees of Castle Town were stripped utterly bare, and deep scars rutted the surrounding landscape like a battlefield ravaged by war. Every house was gone, only the foundations or skeletal remnants of their frames remaining to vouch for their very existence. I surmised that the kingdom must have come under attack by none other than Calamity Ganon...but instead of the legendary behemoth, I saw _him_.

His back was to me, and he now lacked the ponytail and dangling sideburns, but somehow I knew it was him. Instead of the sky blue tunic, he had donned entirely different attire, the likes of which I've never beheld on anyone. The outfit was more form-fitting and distinguished, clearly of custom design, and its hues were solely befitting of royalty.

Royalty.

Link was the king of this devastation.

Even more unsettling, the princess was nowhere in sight. I found myself approaching him, tremendously afraid and yet desperate to ask what had become of her. He turned and fixed those menacing blue eyes directly on me. He said nothing, and yet I could hear him addressing me in that repulsive Necludan accent I'd only heard once before.

" _You're not supposed to be here."_

And then I woke. It's all so clear now what I must do. If Link becomes monarch of Hyrule, our fair kingdom as we know it will be ruined. He must be stopped at all costs.

As a matter of fact, I'm packing up and heading home the moment this entry is complete. I'll just have to exercise additional caution.

I'll append an update upon my next opportunity.

* * *

Home again and finished at last. I believe last night, and the morning that followed, may have been the longest of my life. At three hours past midnight, I was stepping softly down the corridor on my way out of the inn when Carlaisle's unmistakable voice filtered through the door of his room. It sounded as though he was speaking to someone. I wondered if perhaps he was talking in his sleep.

"I agree," he said, "there was really no call for that. It's caused me to lose respect for him."

Then I heard another familiar voice. "Yes. And we missed the water puppet show tonight because of him."

 _Khloe was in the same room with Carlaisle?!_ Well, now. Rest assured, you two, that my lips are sealed.

She continued, "Not that I really mind spending another day here, but still!"

"Yes, it would have been nice if Hugh had warned us in advance that he was coming...or better yet, asked if we minded."

"Hugh can be pretty insensitive himself."

"Yes, though at least he usually makes up for it in some fashion."

"Like baked goods? So it's okay for him to be insensitive because he happens to bring food?"

He chuckled. "No, I believe he brings those as an indirect form of appeasement or apology. Watch, the next time we get together with him, he'll make something extra nice and bring an extra portion. And he'll make it something among Edwin's favorites."

"Hmm. Poor Edwin. He seemed really down today already, even, and then Mister Turste had to go and treat him like that!"

"Right."

"I'm worried about him. He really hasn't been himself lately. You said you talked to him, right? But he wouldn't tell you what was wrong?"

"He did, but he told me about it in confidence...and he insists that he doesn't want any help and gets angry every time I bring it up."

"Well, what does it have to do with? Does it have to do with us?"

"No, it concerns the princess."

I could hear her sitting upright. "The princess? Oh my goodness! Is he in love with the princess?!"

I cringed, my eyes frozen wide.

"No, no!" Carlaisle asserted. "At least, I don't think so! Hm, I've never really thought about it that way."

"He's been this upset about something concerning the princess, but it never occured to you that he might have feelings for her?"

"Well, I-I just assumed...I mean, with the age gap and everything…!"

"Ugh, men are so dense! You think another man is apologizing to you because he brings cookies but can't see heartbreak right in front of your face!"

"Now hold on, Khloe, we can't just go jumping to conclusions, here! There are other issues at hand."

Indeed there were - issues I needed to rectify instead of standing around eavesdropping. I crept away from the door and continued to the front desk, where I rendered payment (for which they insisted I pay a full night's charge regardless of my vacating early) and returned my key, then stepped out into the foreboding darkness.

In the stable, Ichabod was fast asleep. Guilt needled me to be working him so early after just having endured the long journey here, but far too much time had already been frittered away amidst my pathetic blubberings. To ease his exertion, I allowed him to slow to a trot in fairly frequent intervals despite my haste. Then, roughly a third of the distance home, with dawn breaking, we stopped along a clear stretch of road for a period of rest. I was just beginning to dismount when an enormous skeletal arm burst up through the earth but a few feet away. Ichabod reared up, causing me to fall, then fled down the trail while I tumbled into the grass. Meanwhile an entire skeletal moblin had emerged, a stalmoblin, one of the increasingly common types of undead creatures about which I had heard rumors but had never before actually seen. It turned toward me, its fleshless eyes glowing bright crimson, and began to lumber over. Whether I'd been injured in the fall was the furthest from my mind as I scrambled to my feet and sprinted after Ichabod, shouting for him to return. He didn't, of course, but he did grind to a halt several feet ahead to peer back. I finally reached him, heaving, and spun around to determine if I had time to mount, but the monster was gone. Like another bad dream, neither sight nor sound of it remained, merely the terror. We galloped for a good distance from that area, sleep deprivation and all.

The sunlight soon stung my weary eyes, but I dared not allow them to remain closed. My mind was numb and my heart was heavy and my body hurt all over, but the beauty and hope of a new day spilling across the plains and rocky hills beckoned me on. As much as I desired to be home, I believe I gained a new aspect of appreciation for the outdoors today.

But, oh, was I SO glad to arrive home! And Ichabod, never had he appeared so satisfied to be closed back into the familiar royal stable. My legs had all but forgotten how to walk upon that final dismount, but I managed to stagger like one of the local hobos to my house.

And then the true work began. Phase six, the final phase of my master plan, greeted me partially prepared from my upstairs writing desk, but first I needed to ensure I either retained or regained my target's attention. Reaching under my mattress, I retrieved the treasure for phase five - a gold rupee. The previous phases' prizes had been pleasant, perhaps impressive, but no one in his right and sound mind would take this one lightly. After a final moment of admiration I slipped the gleaming stone into my leather pouch and cinched its drawstrings tight. Next I set about composing the puzzle. Initially I had intended for this treasure to be hidden under Gleeok Bridge or another one farther west, but my little Deya excursion had left me harboring absolutely no inclination to travel by any means outside town whatsoever. I pondered a nearby destination for a moment, then inscribed the following clue:

SHE STANDS TALL BEFORE THE FAITHFUL.  
YOU SHOULD STAND BEHIND HER.

Considering the fact that I was drawn free of the cognitive quagmire by an answered prayer, it only seemed fitting to include a religious element in the puzzle. Once I had it sealed and addressed, I pushed myself up from my desk with both hands, slowing with a wincing groan at my sore...everything. I swear every muscle and bone in my being was suffering the wrath of that chaotic ride now. Nevertheless I hobbled back down the stairs and out the door, attempting nearly in vain to right myself and appear normal through the midday crowd of Central Square and the east wing of town. As casually as I could manage I slipped into the cathedral, which, as anticipated, stood empty. In the dimness my gaze first fell onto the edge of the red rug where the princess had knelt the day she became aware that the foolish old pervert had her in his sights. I sighed, lifting my eyes to the towering statue of Hylia for a moment, then stepped forward to her, then past her, until I stood at her uninspired backside. Nearby, two clay pots adorned the dusty sill of a stained glass window. I tipped each for a look inside, then shook the brittle insect carcasses out of one and stuffed the leather pouch inside. That would do.

After an agonizing jaunt from there to the post office drop box, I returned home at last. I desired to record these new details straightaway, but I was quite simply too exhausted, so I clambered into bed and slept, having cast off only my shoes.

It's now almost midnight. I literally crawled from bed to my desk intending to collect my journals, only to recall that they remained in my travel bag, which rested on the corner of my bed. Not resigned to suffer in vain, I took the opportunity to gather the materials for phase six as well. I'm working in bed now, as ironic as that sounds, where I believe I shall remain for a while longer.

May the next entry bear tidings of missing bait and healed bruises.


	27. I've Been Waiting

**August 7th**

Link...you disappoint me.

I nearly slaughtered myself and my horse riding ten hours home on two hours of sleep in order to plant this prize for you, and after nearly a week now you have yet to claim it. I know you've been off duty for a minimum of four of those days, as I've beheld the flicker of candlelight in the princess' bedroom window on those evenings. Furthermore, the treasure is right here in town, in likely the safest and most accessible location it has to offer. How much more effortless could I have rendered it for you? Hmph.

Don't force me to resort to more drastic measures.


	28. On Another Note

**August 8th**

This morning I dropped a new note in the mail for our negligent knight, one intended to spur him into action. It reads as follows:

WAS IT TOO DIFFICULT FOR YOU?  
THE HERO HAS PROVEN HIMSELF A ZERO.

Ah, and with a touch of poetry, at that! Let's see whether he has the temperament to slight this.


	29. Those Eyes

**August 9th**

Lo and behold, the second note has done the trick. This evening I paid another visit to the cathedral just as the sun's parting rays crept behind the mountains, a measure I'd now repeated so many times since planting the treasure that it was beginning to feel routine. I cast a glance into the statue's empty eyes, sighing out of boredom rather than reflection as I proceeded around it without hesitation. The routine ended there, however, for a new sight awaited me - the window sill empty, and both pots on the floor before it, in pieces. The puzzle note lay wadded among the shards, which I stooped to retrieve and straightened a bit before sliding into my pocket. Satisfied, I turned to depart, then froze with an audible gasp to find myself staring across the meager gap between myself and the pews into those eyes - the piercing blue eyes that had threatened me out of the stairwell and taunted me in my prophetic nightmare. But then, as my mind began to recover from its initial seize of terror, I came to realize that it wasn't Link peering back at me at all, but a gentleman with shorter, somewhat darker, wavy hair who appeared to be about my own age. As my senses trickled back I nearly laughed at the fact that I had in my paranoia mistaken him for the boy.

"Y-you startled me," I panted, my voice still quivering.

The man, who sat tilted across the first lefthand pew propped on his elbow, slowly righted himself. "Sorry about that. Guess I must've fallen asleep."

"Well, please don't get up on my account. I was just on my way out." I stepped briskly past him as he yawned and rubbed his elbow, hoping he would leave our encounter at that, but he proved to be of a more talkative disposition.

"I came here to do some praying," he groaned through a yawn, "for my life and my family and all that...but I don't know. I think I might just be wasting my time."

I had paused in the aisle as he spoke, but at these words I turned back toward him. "Oh no, not at all, sir. I must say, prayer has helped me overcome a very difficult point in my life. I was terribly depressed and confused and desperate for direction, and someone out there heard my pleas and showed me the way." For a few seconds he merely gazed back, pensive, then his eyes shifted to the graven goddess. "And I was nowhere near one of these statues," I added flatly.

He cracked a subtle smile. "Hm. Perhaps I am on the right track, then. Thank you, sir."

"Of course." I offered a slight bow and resumed heading out. "Good day."

"Same to you."

I came out of the cathedral feeling I'd reciprocated the divine favor paid me...but oh, I stand far from finished! The final phase remains, its intricate map now complete. This morning I gently lifted it from my desk and verified the ink was entirely dry, then grasped the top of the cloth and ripped it in two, wrapping one half of it around the luminous dagger. All I require now is a suitable chest of sorts, which I believe I can acquire in one of the storage rooms of the castle. I have need to be there tomorrow regardless, to attain my assignment for the weekly digest, so I shall seek one out at that time.

Not that there's any need for haste; the princess' bedroom remains dark, even at this late hour. All I can do for the time being is pray for her safety.


	30. Doors and Scores

**August 10th**

" _Such a wretch_ ," she snapped. " _You're such a wretch!_ " The words on the sweet lips I longed to caress between my own cleft straight into the core of my heart. I could do naught but stare, speechless, my entire cognizance writhing within the coils of frantic bewilderment. However did she come to realize my intentions? She answered as though she could hear my yet-composed sentiments. " _He told me everything. He told me what you really are._ " But how? How did he know? " _You're such a wretch!_ " Sentiments now ignored. My own lips at last parted but to utter a gasping sob, its essence retreating until it caught in my throat, rousing me from my pitiful slumber.

I lay blinking, gazing absently upon the familiar crack sketched across my bedroom ceiling. Reality settled into the forefront moments thereafter, a blanket of scant relief. Even beyond the realm of deep-seated apprehensions, no manner of awakening would ever allow me to escape the agonizing fact that she will never be mine. Further distressing was the burden that yet remained, my imperative task of wrenching her from the clutches of the wretch far less deserving. Mightier than the sword, indeed, my weapon is poised to render its most critical stroke. I mustn't fail.

Both hands met my face and ushered the remnant streams to their soggy cotton banks.

" _Come whatever may...I'm doing this for you_ ," the words emanated from my being into the ebbing haze. I then dutifully forced myself from it, from the bed, into the dreary dawn.

Bathing, dressing, eating, whatnot, the specifics of my routine this morning are moreso a blur to me than the dream now, but I do recall somewhat of an encounter with Daelley as I stepped out my front door. In spite of the stifling humidity and a foreboding sky, he had been out gallivanting in some manner of mudhole, judging by his filthy attire. I observed, somewhat surprised, as he actually attempted to cast his shoes off at his doorstep. He'd succeeded in shedding one when he stumbled a bit and incidentally turned aside, his eyes meeting mine. I expected that he would blurt out a crude greeting or one of his pointless expressions, but in the split second that followed I became aware of a drastic shift in his composure. There he stood, frozen, eyes wide, the moment fleeting and yet retaining its own eternity, and then he reached for the handle of his door, his hands fumbling because he dared not look away. The moment he'd found it he jostled inside, still bearing one shoe, and shut the door posthaste behind him.

Hm. I should have introduced him to Hugh years ago.

Through town, through the castle, I strode with my pace brisk, my head tucked, desiring that my interactions with any acquaintances here be evaded or comparably brief. Following the retrieval of my weekly assignment, I navigated a series of seldom-used passages to the castle's lower level, where I rummaged through a number of storage rooms for a suitable treasure chest. Most were enormous and cumbersome, but one in particular stole my fancy, classic and sturdy and compact enough to grasp with one arm. Emerging from the stairwell with it, I quickly traversed the round hall and was nearly to the door when a rigid voice echoed across the chamber.

"Mister Sweet."

Reflecting on it now, I should have continued walking, straightaway out the door. Instead I stood motionless for a moment before turning, sullen, to face Sabon. He beheld me pointedly, breaking eye contact once and again to glance at the chest, then huffed at what I can only presume was my omission of the customary social formality.

He abruptly wrenched about and proceeded to the nearest door behind him, barking as he barreled through, "Come with me." I stewed with the indignant inclination to do precisely otherwise, my sole hesitation lying with Carlaisle's and Hugh's contingent interests. Knowing Sabon, he was the manner of louse likely to requite them for my offense.

The door had crept all but closed when I met it with an outstretched palm, easing it back wide. Sabon hadn't missed a stride; he continued now a significant distance ahead to the entry of his study, veering inside without so much as a glance in my direction. I breathed a nasal sigh and ventured to the hearty lizard's lair.

For what it lacks in sheer space, the study well compensates with its substantial array of musical instruments mounted in whimsical patterns upon each wall. I'd been here on occasion in the past, though always in the company of Carlaisle or Hugh, whose duties or aspirations had compelled them to call. The realization dawned as I entered today that even _they_ had never come here by invitation - or brusque command, for that matter.

"Close the door." Sabon stood with his back to me, thumbing through crowded shelves of papers. Somewhere in the recesses beyond my animosity, a lump of apprehension began to mount as I complied. My hands slowly fell and clasped one another as I braced in the lingering silence for the onslaught about to ensue. Finally, he turned to me, papers in hand. "Rather amusing edition, was it not?" He dropped them on the desk between us, the most recent issue of our royal weekly digest. I blinked at the publication before cautiously responding.

"...Which...segment?"

"Why, your little jaunt through the Scablands following the account of an economic upturn." His reference was undoubtedly figurative; my work in the digest had mentioned nothing of the sort, and no portion of it was intended to be humorous. Whether it was his own remark or my befuddled expression I am uncertain, but he subsequently tremored with a brief chuckle. "You've been doing this line of work for, what, a year or two now? How's your career outlook these days? Where do you see yourself another year from now, or five years from now?" His hand perched upon a Gerudon spiral horn on his desk, and he leaned over it towards me, so much so that I found myself all but stepping back. "Where do you _want_ to see yourself five years from now?"

Trout faced, I clambered inwardly for my voice. "I...m-my work has been...I mean, I-I can't very well express anything other than satisfaction."

"Of course. You looked positively overjoyed when I saw you last."

The last time we'd met had been in Deya - the night I'd had the _other_ awful dream.

"Oh, that...that had nothing to do with the matter at hand. I simply wasn't feeling well and was-"

"A few weeks from now I'm going to be departing for Lanayru," he interposed, having turned to his shelves once again, "to meet with the creative minds behind the Tabanthan Rito Troupe and a number of other highly esteemed performing ensembles. What's more, the king has granted me permission to select a candidate for the privilege of accompanying me to the conference, to petition for an apprenticeship under their combined guidance in the fine arts." He plucked a sheet from the mounds and whisked it onto the desk before me, an extensive list of names well associated with the arts of which he spoke. "It's a unique and distinguished professional opportunity, and I have selected you to be the candidate."

At this my attention leapt from the paper. " _Me_? W-whatever gave you that inclination?"

"You can rest assured it has nothing to do with your merits, or anyone else's. Frankly there's no one in this entire providence deserving of this position. The best card we have to play here is that of representation, and you, Mister Sweet, fit the bill. The conference is going to be held just off Telta Lake, the resources of which shall be supplied by the Sheikah Village. Regardless of your competence, the benefactors there wouldn't dare snub a descendant of the Sheikah race." His hand unfurled before me as if to allow something to roll off his fingers onto my now tense chest.

"Sheikah…?" I made a point of using the word's proper pronunciation, SHEH-EE-KAH, rather than the asinine SHEE-KAH used by most, Sabon included. I find it rather irksome that scarcely anyone is capable of saying it correctly...but I digress. "Are you of the impression that I am of Sheikah descent?"

"Your mother's maiden name was Kareto, was it not?"

"How do you know my mother's maiden name?!"

"The personnel dossiers. Choosing the most appropriate candidate is of crucial importance, and I've no intentions of losing this affiliation to some bug-eyed Zora or busty Gerudo."

"Well, I'm afraid that name bears no kinship with my ancestry. It was passed down to my mother from her great-grandfather, who merely acquired it when he was adopted."

"Are you quite sure?" He stepped around the desk and leaned close, reaching a finger just above my view. "Your hair starts out dark at the top, more brown than blond, but it pales and becomes almost white down here by your ears."

"And it pales a tad whiter each year. I believe it's referred to as aging."

The finger traveled to my face. "Your brow and nose have somewhat of a Sheikah quality to them." Again mispronounced.

"The only thing Sheikah about my face is the quality of your wishful thinking!"

"Perhaps. But if I can be convinced, why couldn't anyone else?"

"Oh, no," I nipped that train of thought, backing well away, "adopted name or not, I've no desire whatsoever to be associated with that band of sorcerous dregs and their death beam mechanical monsters! Absolutely out of the question!" My free hand reached behind me for the lever of his door as he stood motionless, appearing a bit deflated but eyeing me pensively. "Thank you for the offer, Mister Turste, but unfortunately I do not meet your criterion. I really must be going now, if you'll excuse me." I dared not glance back as I made my exit, and he said nothing more. And that was that.

Since arriving home, I've readied myself and my treasure for the final setup of my master plan. The chest rests here on the desk beside me, which now contains the bare dagger and one portion of the rent map. The weapon's sheath and the remainder of the map must remain here for the time being.

I've also proceeded to inscribe the initial clue for the heathen Mr. Harper, to be deposited in the post box upon my return:

MY FINAL GIFT TO YOU - IN 3 PUZZLES  
DON'T BARK UP THE WRONG TREE

Obvious enough. I certainly hope it doesn't _stump_ him.

On a reflective note, perhaps if Hugh or Carlaisle were to approach Sabon regarding the candidacy, he would reconsider their qualifications well enough to extend at least one of them the offer. I recall several occasions on which Carlaisle relayed a fervent desire for but a fraction of as much. Bearing that in mind, I cannot fathom by what manner of conscience I could possibly accept it - and for such a preposterous reason, no less. I shall have to speak to both of them about it...but not today. Today a far more significant duty awaits. I suppose I ought to cease blathering and tend to it, already.

I'm just...perturbed, about that whole Sheikah subject. The audacity of him to go nosing through my dossier, and now everyone may very well find out, after all these years of successful concealment. I dread to ponder what could come of it, of my perceived nobility. Perhaps my nightmare was in fact an omen of a different sort.

Enough. I'm only driving myself mad. Off I go.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_ Hi and thanks for reading! I'm SO glad to be back to work on this project! To everyone who's been following this story, please accept my profuse apologies for the lengthy delay since my previous real entry. This last year of real-world life has been particularly rough for me both physically and emotionally, and while I'm not quite out of the woods yet, I'm elated to be able to return to this and other hobbies that I'm finally able to again enjoy. It's ironically one of my physical ailments that's recently resulted in downtime from work and thus enabled me to devote more time to this fic. Later this month I'm scheduled to be undergoing major surgery, after which I should have even more downtime, so I'm hoping to make good progress here! Thanks so very much for your readership and support! If you could please take a moment to post a review with your thoughts, good or bad, it'd be very greatly appreciated!


	31. Blessed

**August 11th**

Mission accomplished - and without a hitch, at that. I dare venture to retain hope that the remaining measures play out as favorably as this one, as even the very elements seemed intent to bless my efforts this once.

"I know, you hate the rain," I murmured to Ichabod yesterday as I tied his saddle with the burlap-wrapped chest, sporadic drops all the while pelting the stable roof. By the time I led him outside, however, a most welcome northerly breeze had swept in and ushered the clouds on. Thinner, whiter clouds followed, the variety that shed no rain but kept the sun from scorching us as we trotted south. Better still, no monsters or bothersome salesmen met us en route, and few insects played the pest. A rainbow even emerged as we traversed the Passeri Greenbelt.

Such priceless pleasures, unfortunately, find no foothold on a heavy heart.

Dusk had all but swallowed the sun by the time we reached our destination, a local landmark shrouded in legends of lore. It's said that Mount Daphnes was once an active volcano, the neighboring caverns of which abruptly collapsed into a monstrous sinkhole thousands of years ago. The crater left remained barren until one day centuries later, when the reigning king planted a single, blessed seed. That seed sprouted and grew into one of the mightiest trees in the land, reaching so tall that it beget its own demise, for its branches became entangled with the moon. Being no match for the moon's might, the tree was rent asunder at the trunk, and the upper half was carried away into oblivion. Its remains, which still produce budding offshoots to this day, are now known simply as the ancient tree stump. I deemed it only fitting that the final treasure be planted here.

Within the sinkhole, near the stump's massive roots, a handful of small gift shops offers snacks and souvenirs to visitors during the day, but by this hour the merchants had closed up and left for the night. I carefully steered Ichabod down the wooden ramp past the structures and onto the bare earth, where we wound about to the stump's less frequented south side. Lifting a lantern at the base of the trunk, I sought some manner of crevice fit to lodge the chest, an area I could well enough access but nothing too blatantly obvious. Before long I caught sight of an optimal gnarly nook, my only concern being its location on the trunk, at least twelve feet up.

"All right, nothing I couldn't handle as a child, right?" I assured myself as I stood with the chest under one arm, feeling along the bark for a handhold. Slowly, meticulously, I scaled the knots and crooks until at last I reached the hollow, where I suddenly recalled the last mishap I had suffered, my tumble from Ichabod less than two weeks prior. I'd scarcely recovered from those bruises, and here I was, clinging higher still. My whole body trembled as I carefully nestled the chest into place, finding much to my gratification that it fit even more aptly than anticipated. I attempted to give it one more sound nudge, only to inadvertently force myself back instead, compromising my already minimal balance. My sole option was to step wide off the trunk and brace for a dreadful landing - and land I did, my foot squarely on Ichabod's saddle! "No, no, no! Stay! Whoa!" I hissed as the confused horse began to step back. I pushed hard with my stray foot and returned to the tree, after which I managed a clumsy but safe descent, much to my relief.

Made it down, made it home, as uneventful an outing as for which one could hope. Having doubled back at a much quicker pace than I'd journeyed out, I believe it still technically remained the 10th when I arrived, but I opted for an adequate night's rest over an appended entry. As soon as I'm finished here I shall be trekking into the castle to plant the second piece of the puzzles three, after which point the clue I penned can go into the mail bin.

And then comes the best part.

Hurry back, Princess. Your _true_ curse is about to end.


End file.
